


Dona Nobis Pacem

by Dement0



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Gilver - Freeform, Slavery, Slow Burn, Violence, dante also comes in later, lots of magic, maybe some lime l8r, vergil hopefully learning to embrace his human side a lil more, we'll see where this goes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-24
Updated: 2018-12-15
Packaged: 2019-05-27 19:12:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 24,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15031388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dement0/pseuds/Dement0
Summary: Free, yet not. Riddled with wounds both physical and mental that will not heal, he is rendered a shadow of his former self. His only salvation is a rare and pure energy that was once common among Witches and Sorcerers, but is now almost non-existent in the world, most spiritual beings having perished or in hiding from those who wish to abuse them.In his search for a solution, he comes across a town filled with demons in a remote mountainside, it's main attraction a monthly auction full of various supernatural beings, and most conveniently, a young priestess.





	1. Devils Lyric

**Author's Note:**

> I'm awful at summaries btw.  
> This fic is a huge clusterfuck of DMC lore, from novels, manga, the games, even Bayonetta (a lot of things pertaining to witches are from this game which is full of DMC references.) I basically picked out what I liked and used it for this. I'm also using the likeness of Gilver (Vergil from the novels) in appearance and name, not so much personality, if you were wondering.
> 
> I also don't claim to be well versed in any kind of magic, alchemy, ect mentioned in the fic, I just found it very interesting and thought it fit well, please don't bash me if something is incorrect, it's all exaggerated fantasy in this fic anyways.

_**Dona nobis pacem** (Latin for "Grant us peace")_

 

* * *

 

 

Soft footfalls echoed off the ancient stone and brick, loud in contrast to the quiet of the drab alleyways and city streets. Azure eyes roamed the aged, Gothic architecture as he sought his very specific goal - a wooden door hidden in an inky corner of the backstreet, adorned with a unique crest. Carved into the surface was a flame, caged in an intricate mesh of swirls, framed by beautiful pyrography resembling smoke. This was unmistakably the crest of Lille, an old Sorceress who amassed a clan of amateur witches and alchemists taught by herself.

He had known her well, a hideous hag straight from a children's fantasy book, but with an aura of kindness and strong desire to share her skills with the willing. She had been the woman who trained Eva, wife of Sparda, to harness her spiritual capabilities from a young age, molding her into the powerful witch he had known as a boy.

It had taken him months to get to this point, to this particular structure in an old city now forgotten by its citizens. Once again, he cursed himself for the curses he could not escape from on his own, by his own power. He had escaped from Hell, from the Price of Darkness himself, but he still carried wounds both physical and mental that refused to heal. Even his demonic power lay dormant somewhere deep inside of him, constricted by some force that manifested itself as devastating pit in his stomach.

Head to toe he covered himself in bandages in an attempt to hide his identity and keep the festering wounds clean, riddled with shame at the pathetic being he had become. After all his effort he had been reduced to something not much more powerful than a typical demon, and his body was plagued with constant pain and fatigue as the burns and lacerations that littered his once immaculate skin never healed. Despite breaking away from Mundus' possession he was not truly free, a series of powerful hex's linking him to his worst enemy. He hadn't felt this angry in years, since the loss of his mother who he had failed to protect due to his own shortcomings. There was nothing he hated more than weakness yet he had become the embodiment of it, having been a slave, now having to seek the help of those once weaker than him.

He hadn't wanted to be seen like this, to sully the Sparda name, but after months spent in various libraries and his own prior knowledge, it was clear there would be no progress without outside assistance.

After taking a moment to stare into the intricate symbol that brought on a sudden warm feeling of nostalgia he forced the heavy door open, his eyes regaining their icy quality as they fell upon a small woman. She flitted between wooden tables full of worn books, tending to various pots and cauldrons which produced steam of unnatural color and a bitter odor that offended his senses.

 _'This is not the hag.'_ his frown deepened as she failed to meet his gaze, her own eyes obscured by her scarlet hood. Her purple lips twisted into a smirk, dulcet tone grating against his ears.

"It's been a long time, Dark Slayer. To what do I owe this  _pleasure_?" she purred, batting her viridescent eyes playfully at him. As her gaze fell upon him, her coy attitude waned slightly.

"Oh, your lovely face! What has happened to you?" she cooed, leaning over the aged wood to reach for his cheek, one she remembered to be chiseled and a beautiful alabaster.

His gaze hardened, and her hand froze mid-air before retracting it quickly, thinking better of her decision.

"You speak as if we know one another, if this is true then you should realize how lucky you are that you still have both of your hands, now where is the Hag?" his voice a deep timbre, raspy from utter lack of use.

Her eyes were suddenly downcast, staring at nothing in particular on the table, "It seems you haven't been informed. Lille is no longer with us, hasn't been for some years now."

His surprise was hidden well under a cool mask of indifference. Now was not the time to recollect his memories of the old sorceress, his goal was still the same whether the woman was here or not.

"Then I require your assistance."

Her somber mood lifts slightly, a playful glint in her eyes.

"The mighty Vergil requires assistance from little 'ol me?"

A meaningful look silences her, the threat in his wintery gaze purposely unconcealed as he reaches for the knot of dressings at the base of his skull. Slowly, he unravels the gauze to reveal his disfigured appearance, halting as he reached his jawline. Her expression is a mixture of fear and disgust and she shies away from the gruesome sight, cringing. 

Oozing blisters and scabs mar his once perfect complexion everywhere but around his eyes, lips and forehead. His hair is dry and matted where he still has it, and he truly paints a horrifying picture to the witch. His eyes narrowed with annoyance as she finally turned back to face him, moving around the table to get a better look at him. The only way she recognizes him like this is his eyes, bloodshot but still the same clear blue his father had possessed. Hands tentatively come up to meet his skin to inspect the damages but as she gets close she recoils again, her forced kind demeanor once again morphing into fear as she holds them to her chest as though she had been burned.

"Those...those are far beyond my capabilities. These were inflicted upon you by Mundus, were they not?"

"You have lifted curses such as these before." he states simply, unimpressed with the decided overreaction.

She shakes her head remorsefully, claw tipped fingers twirling in a tendril of hair that freed itself from her hood, "Not I, I have never in my career encountered a curse as heinous as this, nor can I cure it. I am sorry, but you will not find what you require here."

He can feel his fingers twitching, his calm demeanor slipping at her words, the ones that leave his mouth dripping with menace.

"Then you will direct me to someone who can."

She shakes her head, ignorant to the surge of energy in the dim room.

"My magic is engineered, taught to me by Lille rather than inherited naturally. It is too weak and lacks the purity to content with something as wicked as a curse from Mundus. Those who possess pure energy such as Lille, or even your mother were not common and are even rarer these days. I personally know of none, most have either passed or do not wish to be found."

She casts him a look of sympathy, and something that had drawn so tight within him snaps. He towers over her, his mottled face mere inches from hers as he bends to her height. She attempts to back away, only to shake the table behind her, the clanging of pots ringing loudly in his ears. His hand closes around her neck, squeezing tightly as his patience thinned.  He had not foreseen the apprentices of Lille to be so pathetic and incapable. His mother had been strong, well respected in her right and certainly had his expectations set far too high.

"Then what do you suppose I do?" he bit the words out as he increased pressure, the witches eyes brimming with tears as she struggled against him. Her claws bit into his hands, beginning to shred the gauze that concealed them. With a small shove, he released his grip and watched as she grasped at her throat, panting hoarsely.

He reeled in his anger, despising his loss of control over something so minor. His hands were still twitching, voices only heard to him whispering various jeers.

_Weak, weak! You are weak, and now you let your emotions get the best of you?_

He ignored it, and repeated his question to the recovering female before him. She refused to face him, voice quivering slightly as she answered him to the best of her ability.

"Your only hope is someone who is _born_ with that spiritual energy, rather than taught it. It's not likely you will find one outside of a clan, and even less useful without anyone to teach them how to utilize it." she swallows hard and leans over the table to lift a ladle from one of her cauldrons, bringing the pink concoction to her lips with a sigh, her throat somewhat smoothed.

"There is an old and proficient engineer, Banon, far north of the flooded valleys. He is the only one I can think of who may have connections to the kind of people you need, but it is not a guarantee or even likely. I apologize, Son of Sparda."

Instead of gazing at him in pity, she bows for him. His only response is a quiet  _hn_ of acknowledgement before he turns on his heel, exiting her dull dwellings without another glance her way, leaving her bowed until the door rattled back into its frame.

His rage is hot, bubbling beneath his skin and flashing brightly in his eyes as he begins to re secure his dressings into place. Deft fingers work quickly as he floats through the streets, unfortunately reminded of his dull senses as the dark obscures his vision far more than it ever used to.

Yet again, he would have to travel and reveal his situation to a stranger, to ask for help that he wasn't likely to obtain. He had been so sure Lille's old dwellings would be the solution to his problem, but now he was back where he started. He was not yet ready to give up, no, that wasn't something that would ever cross his mind. Bruised pride set his stride strong and steady despite his drained body's protests. He would not stop until he regained what was rightfully his, hidden inside his own body.

 

* * *

_3 Months Later_

Something ruffling loudly by the wind had caught his attention, gaze shifting to a telephone pole littered with various posters and flyers. Two demonfolk stared at the offending paper with a deep interest before noticing him, hurriedly shuffling away, muttering in hushed tones to each other. He paid no mind to their behavior, demon and human alike did not seem enthralled by his current appearance, stark in contrast to the way he used to garner the undivided attention of most he encountered. Even up in the mountains in a desolate town full of the supernatural, he was unnerving and out of place. He didn't take the time to think much of it.

Taking their place, he tore the flyer from the pole and his eyes widened in interest as they landed on the simple headline detailing an auction full of demon women and servants, but it was the last word printed in bold that had piqued his interest -  _ **Priestess.**_

A black and white photo took up there rest of the flier, a lineup of the 'merchandise' to be sold. At the very end sat a small girl, her features soft, undeniably the Priestess they mentioned. Her attire was a mockery of her title, a dirty, scrappy white dress that ended mid-thigh, nothing priestly about it but its color and flowing sleeves. She was also notably the only human in the lineup, and the only one he had seen in this town thus far.

"Hello sir, you're staring pretty hard at that paper, have you found something of interest? As the owner of that auction I'd be  _more_ than happy to answer any questions you may have." a sleazy, confident voice cut into his thoughts.

Eyes never leaving the paper, he replies in a light tone.

"Indeed I am."


	2. Innocent Moon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the kudos everyone, I really don't write fanfiction anymore so <3  
> This chapter has some allusions to sexual assault (very minor) and deals a little with slavery so if that bothers you, do not proceed.

_"Ah, fuck."_

_Cursing under her breath, she grabbed the edge of her sleeping bag and tried to scoot further under the roof of the storefront, rainwater splashing over the edge and soaking a corner of her bedding. She curled up and watched the rain fall, light reflecting off the rippling water of the puddles in the street._

_She began to drift to sleep when twin footsteps made their way down the sidewalk, unusual for this area this time of night. She gripped her pocketknife but didn't move, a sudden strange feeling overtaking her senses. There was something wrong with these two-_

_The steps slowed and came to a stop, and her body froze when a quiet chuckle sounded right beside her. A hand shot out to grip her hair and she flailed wildly, yelping as she swiped blindly in the dark. She must have connected with something, as an inhuman screech flooded the air and something warm and wet met her hand. She tried to crawl away, legs tangled in the mound of blankets she had been in when a hand fisted in her hair, knife clattering onto the pavement. She was brought nose to nose with the face of a reptile, its large blackened eyes staring directly into hers, face distorted in a grin._

_She couldn't look away, but to the left she heard the other_ thing  _snarling at her. She kicked wildly but her thrashing was useless, the look on the scaly beings face not changing as her wrist was brought to his mouth. Her eyes widened as his maw stretched wide, revealing sharp fangs that dripped with something purple in hue._

_"W-what the hell are you doing?!"_

_She cried out as the teeth dug deep into her wrist, the decided demon's eyes flashing as she tried to break out of his iron grip, tearing the wounds. Her vision darkened, the green iridescent scales blurring in the street light to form a picture almost pretty as she was drained of her energy. Her body slumped to the ground, held up by the grip on her long locks._

_"I think this means we meant our quota, lets get 'er to Jericho and call it a night."_

* * *

 

"What will it be...no, let me guess. Maybe the twins in the back? Exotic beauties they are." The pudgy man waggles his brows but when Vergil's lips don't quirk, his eyes drift down to the sword at his hip.

"The gunsmith? You look like a man who appreciates a good-"

"Her." Vergil cuts him off, dressed finger tapping the flyer where she sat.

He watches the salesman's brows raise on his human-like face, but he can sense the demonic energy radiating off of his body. He grins, rows of rotted teeth and a rancid stench greeting him.

"A priestess huh, good taste. Very rare, very  _expensive_ , what do you wish to know?"

"Is she powerful, or simply a religious symbol?"

The demon chuckled, "If it isn't obvious, your typical human doesn't make it here. She is a spiritual being, though young and inexperienced she's shown signs of power, weak and undeveloped as it is. She almost fried a demon that got too handsy with her during her transport here."

Vergil nodded subtly, but the salesman wasn't finished.

"You can call me Ringman, by the way. If you really are interested, you may meet her. It's not something I typically offer but if you're planning on coughing up such a large sum of money, it's simply the courteous thing to do, a ' _try it before you buy it'_ kind of deal, with limitations of course." he holds out a bloated hand, but Vergil ignores it, offering a name instead.

"Gilver. I think I'll take you up on your offer."

He wipes his hands on his pants, taking the rejection in stride, "Wonderful, follow me."

Gilver said nothing but followed close behind. The salesman strutted along with a slight skip to his step, obviously quite pleased with himself, thinking his sales pitch won him over. He held back a snort, instead glaring over the head of the shorter demon, taking in his surroundings. The greed painted all over his face had disgusted him, looking much like an overstuffed pig. As of recently, he held no respect for slavers.

"Now I'm a honest salesman, she obviously doesn't have control over her magic. If she did, I think she would have killed all of us awhile ago," he chuckles, "...the first people who caught her down in the city weren't even aware of her value until she started zapping them." he makes a ridiculous gesture with his fingers, making buzzing sounds that earned a huff of annoyance from the bandaged half-demon, promptly halting his actions.

"It seems to be an emotional response, but I'm sure with a little discipline she can be molded into exactly what you want her to be. Its a small price to pay for something like her."

"We will see."

They didn't have to travel far, within a few minutes they arrived at their destination. A huge and old opera house that was as broken down and desolate as the rest of the buildings in town, but it's ornate structure gave it a slight air of elegance despite it's dilapidated state.

Inside was very much the same, but all the seating within the theater had been stripped out and cut off into different sections. Maybe stores, maybe housing, he couldn't tell, not that it held much interest to him. They entered what was now the main hall, devoid of people save for some workers at a bar in the far back. It was completely dark, the only light being provided by the occasional lantern on a table or hanging from a wall. Combined with the purple table clothes it looked more like a sleazy bar or club than an auction house, a place he might have found his little brother late at night.

Ringman motioned for him to sit, the chair's legs scraping against the ground loudly as he pulled one back for him. He had seated him at the very front, right next to the stage, and shouted down the stairs to the left of it.

"Corneus?" a quiet grunt, "...get the girl from cell 7, the witch, and put her on stage. We got a customer!"

The demon-man pulled at the lapels of his suit, smiling broadly, "You know, I'm a man that can appreciate a good suit. What brand is yours? The blue and gold are really a  _nice_  touch, though I'm a classic charcoal man myself."

"I do not appreciate small talk."

He shivered slightly as the ice in his tone, simply taking his seat at the table next to him, "It should only be a minute, sorry for the wait."

He stared hard at the red curtains of the stage, mind racing. Is this what the Witch had mentioned before, the pure magic he needed? It had all seemed too good to be true, much too easy. He could buy her, command her, have the man Banon teach her and he could be free all within the month. Or he could be scammed and buy a useless human and be out all the cash he had saved.

He would need to see a display of her  _'magic'_ to be sure, wondering how he could goad something like that out of her with the man at his side.

His fingers began to tap upon the table, he absolutely loathed this anxious feeling. He was no used to being so antsy and the seedy atmosphere of the hall did nothing to help, musty air all too unpleasant to his senses. The auctioneer seemed to take notice as he shouted again, tone filled with threat. The shout grated at his ears, and he silently vowed that if this man was playing him for a fool after all, he would have his head.

Soft bickering could be heard coming from the backstage, then the curtains billowed outwards to reveal the girl, a pig-like demon right behind her. When she didn't move he shoved her hard, her knees hitting the hardwood floor with a bang as she skidded to the front, grunting softly.

"Stand." Ringman ordered, and she complied.

He took a moment to watch her face, a cold and passive mask over her features despite the blood flowing from one of her knees, though her amber eyes glowed with hatred for the men before her. She looked little like her photo, the bruises adorning her body having multiplied, while her dress seemed to have picked up many indistinguishable stains, though blood seemed to be one of them. Her long, dark hair was disheveled but that passive gaze was very much the same.

Beside him, Ringman rolled his eyes, circling his finger in the air, "Come on, you know the drill. Clients, Spin. Our friend is not a patient man."

Those burning eyes snapped to his, and he met that fire with a cold disinterest, though internally he admired her gall to stare at a demon in such a way. She was obviously very brave or very imbecilic, maybe both. She gave a half hearted twirl, arms stuck stiffly to her sides. When she finished her 180 she cocked her head in the direction of Ringman as if to ask  _"Good enough, right?"_

He sighed, "Again, and this time give us a little more hip action would ya?"

She blinked, wrinkled her nose, and spit. Inwardly, Gilver chuckled as the liquid hit Ringman square in the face, dripping down his reddened cheeks and onto his tie. He produced a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped at his face, his tone now cold and unamused.

"Showing off, are we?"

With the handkerchief came a remote pointed straight at her, her cold gaze cracking with the clenching of her jaw. Gilver observed, then noticed the collar around her neck, framed by inflamed skin. She didn't respond, her hands suddenly gripping the device as she dropped to her knees in silent agony. Ringman kept his fat finger on the button, her small form continuing to crumple further to the stage, a low wail finally ripping free of her throat as the pain outweighed her stubbornness.

"I failed to mention that she has a bit of a rebellious streak. It was cute at first but it became a problem once she started doing things like that, harming personnel, nothing that a little discipline can't fix, right dear?" he raised his voice at the end, waving the remote, and she groaned out something that was likely an insult.

Gilver growled in warning, hand fisted on the table, "I did not come here to watch her spin like a doll, you implied that I would be allowed to meet her. Stop wasting my time."

Ringman blinked and slid his finger off of the button, simultaneously the girl went limp, and Gilver relaxed a little.

"Of course, my bad. This is just the routine, you understand. You may meet her in private."

He quietly motioned to the pig, Corneus, and the demon grabbed the girl from the stage and dragged her away, her only resistance was a weak push that led to him tightening his grip with bruising strength. She disappeared behind the maroon curtains without a word.

Ringman seemed to have wilted a bit in his presence, his voice much less boisterous than it had been as he led him down the stairs near the stage into a series of hallways beneath the opera house. They passed various doors, presumably where other  _merchandise_ was kept as they continued down the damp hall, random voices and the sound of dripping water echoing off the stone.

Different sets of hollow eyes watched them as they passed, and at one point his eyes locked with a tired man who held onto the bars, glaring at him as he passed. He kept his eyes forward the rest of the way. Finally, Ringman stopped at an open cell and turned to face him, wiping sweat from his brow as he failed to meet the bandaged demons eyes.

"Now, while we're usually quite lenient with our meetings, she is a special case. She is a virgin, so no sex. Takes away that priestess appeal. You also cannot injure her, I'd ask to confiscate your sword but I don't believe that would end well, but I trust you're an honorable man and that it wont be a problem."

Gilver scowls, "I have no interest in any of that, and I do not respond to flattery. Leave my sight."

He nods, shrinking back with a tight lipped smile, "Meetings are ten minutes, I will be back to let you out then."

He backs off so Gilver can enter, the steel clattering back into its frame as the man locked it behind him. Inside the sparsely furnished room sat the girl, her hands fisted into the rags that served as her dress as she refused to meet his gaze.

"Priestess." at the sound of his sharp tone, she tensed.

"I am no priestess. I have no knowledge of religion or anything...otherwordly. Those bastards are playing you to raise my pricetag." she snaps, earning a glare.

"Those men are not stupid, they know trying to play off a petty human as a magical being will result in severe consequences. They must have very good reason to believe you posses such power."

Gravel crunches beneath his shoe as he takes a step forward, "You will show me what you are hiding."

She shoots up from her seat, bare feet kicking small pebbles in different directions as she backs away, "Get away from me, Demon. I have nothing to show you."

He raises a brow beneath the gauze, her perception admirable, no humans had recognized him as a demon yet. Regardless, he pursues her into the corner she backed herself to, arms coming to either side of her head as he towers a head over her.

"If you show me willingly, I will not make this unpleasant for you." he drawls lowly, coming nose to nose with her despite her attempts to shrink back into the wall, flailing wildly as she begins to panic at his close proximity, that cool indifference nowhere to be seen now.

"-fuck away from me-" she grunts out.

He presses a leg between her thighs, pinning her and halting her attempts to hit him, but doesn't move his hand in time to stop her forehead from colliding with his nose. He growls as he hears something crack, removing a hand from her shoulder and pressing his blade to her throat, careful to not bite into the delicate skin despite his rage.

"I have nothing to offer you." she states coldly, staring at him in challenge. She must have heard the crack too, since her confidence suddenly seemed boosted, panic waning. It was misplaced, he thinks, as he could easily kill her with a flick of his wrist, weakened or not.

"So you mean to tell me you're as weak as any other pitiful human?" he growls, resisting the urge to crush her shoulder in his grip.

" _You're_  the one seeking the power of a pitiful human, what kind of demon are you?" she scoffs, cringing slightly as the pressure on her increases.

An evil look crosses his features as he ground his hips into hers without warning, hand moving to her side as Ringman's words rang out in his head,  _'she almost fried a demon that got too handsy.'_

"I gave you the chance to make this easy, girl." he growled in her ear, hot breath fanning against her cheek as her face paled, his deft fingers ghosting up her side, seeking out her chest. While he had no intention to further his assault, he also had no qualms with terrifying her if it led him to his goal.

Then he felt something pressing against the sword in his hand, and as he backed away from her he watched her push herself onto the blade with a cry and pulled it away in shock. Her hand came up to grip his wrist and something burned him through his sleeve and dressings, and he backed away, confused but satisfied as he resisted the urge to rub the burned skin.

She dropped away from him with a grunt, crawling across the ground until she was on the other side of the table, holding her throat to stop the blood flow. He watches in interest as the crimson drips down the pale skin, getting caught on the black leather of her collar. She notices his stare and glowers at him, breathing heavily.

"Foolish girl, such a rare commodity yet you value your life so little?" he sneers, flicking his wrist to rid his weapon of her blood, resulting in a crimson streak across the stone floor.

"A commodity? You mean a toy. I would rather die than be used up by vile, savage demons," she snorts contemptuously "...I hardly expect someone like  _you_ to understand."

He stiffens, straitening up and observing her defiant stance with sudden thoughtfulness.

He realizes he  _does_ understand - more than she could ever imagine, and while he doesn't make it a habit to feel empathy for others, he understands that feeling well with the years as a slave, all the torture and humiliation he endured...

He finds his gaze towards her softening. She seems to take notice and relaxes a little, but still stands ready for him to strike her again, eyes aflame. He feels no desire to mock her, aware of her eyes on him as he takes a seat at the flimsy table in the center of the room, eyeing the wound on her neck with the slightest hint of guilt, a foreign feeling.

"I've decided."

She stares at him in question, shaking her head as if to say  _'continue?"_

"I'll be taking you with me." he finishes, ignoring her attitude while patiently waiting for the staff to return.

She sputters, "What? You can't just take me with you. The auction isn't 'til Friday anyways."

"I am confident in my ability to convince Ringman to relinquish ownership of you to me."

She snarls, "I'm not property, you wont take me anywhere." she starts to circle the table, and he pays little attention to her.

"It seems that is not your decision to make, and if you reach for my sword, I'll make sure you regret it." it's an empty threat, but his wintery tone doesn't betray that. She had attempted to swipe it from it's sheath but froze at his words, huffing in frustration and backing away.

In the quiet hall, the sound of boots on concrete can be heard, accompanied by whistling and the jingle of keys. She tenses, turning towards the door and adjusting the collar so it covers her neck, brushing her hair over her chest in an attempt to hide the damage. She turns halfway towards him, face passive once again, her words cold as ice, but he is unnafected.

"I will not beg you, but trust, if you succeed in buying me, I'll make sure  _you_ regret it."

His only response is a quirk of his lips that she misses as she turns to face the door, keys clicking in the lock.

"Ah, Gilver, I trust she wasn't too much of a problem." Ringman's tone is jovial once again, now puffing on a cigar that glowed in the low light.

"Not at all, in fact, she has exceeded my expectations. I wish to purchase her."

His mouth gaped at the mysterious mans words, the girl tensed.

"Well, you are free to bid on her during Friday's auction, You are not the only one interested in her, selling her off now may cause us both some very...severe problems." he says weakly, fully aware that that was not what the demon wanted to hear, but wasn't prepared for his next action.

Gilver is on him in a second, sword pressing against his thick throat, gravelly voice carrying well in the sudden deafening silence.

"You will give her to me, or I will cut you down and take her myself."

He quivered underneath him, adams apple bobbing and getting cut in the process. He responded simply as a trickle of blood runs down his neck, "You're going to piss off a lot of demons."

Gilver grinned, eyes glowing with the challenge, "I'd like to see them try and do something about it."

He takes a step back and sheaths the sword, pulling a neat stack of bills from the pocket of his suit and dropping them in his outstretched hand. He begins flipping through the bills with a dumbfounded look on his face as Gilver turns on his heel, heading for the door. The girl just looks shocked, slightly frightened as his evil gaze sets itself on her.

"I'll inform you now, I so hate repeating myself, and I hate those who are too imbecilic to take the simplest of hints. Follow me, or I will hook a leash to that collar of yours and drag you out of here like a dog."

Her eyes are wide for a moment, then she slumps in defeat, retrieving a small sack from under the cot and returning to his side. Before they exit, Ringman calls out to him, and without turning around he catches the remote tossed his way.

"In case she gives you trouble, it's not like I'll need it anymore."

Gilver gives it a contemptuous look before sliding it into his pocket, leaving the fat demon to count his cash with a greedy smile. The halls had grown completely silent save for sound of her bare feet and his dress shoes on the cold, wet pavement. They ignored the curious glances of the other demons, passing through without a word as he led her out onto the side streets and out of the city, trying to bring as little attention to them as possible. It had thankfully grown dark, and he hoped all her time in that musty prison beneath the opera house would mask her human scent long enough for them to get get ready to leave the area.

While he was confident he could handle most of the weaker demons in the town, he wasn't sure how he would fair against an angry hoard in his weakened state. He let out an angry breath, sparing a glance behind him where the human girl had fallen behind. She struggled to match his long strides, panting slightly from exhaustion.

"Hurry up." he snaps, and hears an annoyed gasp behind him before she stumbles closer to him, doubling her pace to keep up with him, cursing his long legs under her breath. He smirks a little in response.

He needs her close as the local Inn loomed before them, which would serve as their lodging for tonight. Taking some of the remaining bills from his pocket, he warns her to stay close and silent as they enter the old building for the night. 


	3. Acceptance

The key slides into the lock and the door opens with a soft click, swinging open with a creak to reveal their sub-par lodgings. Stains adorned the walls, the cheap furniture was torn, everything covered in a layer of dust. The girl sneezes twice, and his brows raise at the high pitched sound, bemused.

She can't help but feel nervous as he drops the black duffel bag he had been carrying around on the cracked counter top, paying her no attention as he rifles through it's contents. She glances around for a place to sit but the arm chair has questionable stains and there was no way she was putting herself on the only bed. She silently wonders how Gilver can stand accommodations such as these with the way he seemed to hold himself in high regard, dressed in his expensive suit and speaking in condescending tones. Lost in thought, she yelps as her vision is obscured by something smelling of iron and faintly, cologne. It's not an entirely unpleasant odor, she decides somewhere in the back of her mind.

She snatches the offending cloth from her face incredulously, holding it out to reveal a pair of pants, most certainly his due to their size and smell.

"Put them on, I won't have you prancing around with your bare legs on display." he says, returning to his searching.

Her eyes are burning twin holes in the back of his head, wanting to be annoyed by the statement but she was simply confused. She slides them on despite how they end far past her ankles and slide off her hips. She looks around for something to use as a belt, but ultimately decides to use a strip of cloth from her rags. A demon asking her to cover up was extremely unusual, and in the chaos that was her day she never did find out what he wanted to use her for.

"Why did you purchase me, what do you intend to use me for?"

He sounds bored, if not slightly irritated as understands why she's confused, "I have no intentions of taking you against your will. I require your spiritual capabilities and that is all you need to know."

He turns and places a bottle of water in front of her, and shes reminded of how parched she is. She can't remember the last time she's had a drink, especially of water so clear. She mutters a thank you before downing the bottle in a few gulps, returning to her inquiries.

"I have no knowledge of my  _capabilities._ I don't know what I can do for you."

"You talk too much," he snaps "...I was aware you were weak and unrefined when I purchased you, that's why I'll be taking you to someone who can train you to suit my needs."

She looks down at her bottle longfully as he berates her, wishing she hadn't finished it so quickly as she longs for something to fidget with. Despite his waning patience with her, she continues to speak.

"When do we leave?"

A sigh meets her ears as she fiddles with the plastic label, "I hadn't planned on staying here more than a few hours, but since I have your  _wonderful_ company I'll have to take a day to gather supplies to make sure you don't kill over on the trek. Humans are already fragile but you are especially so, due to your recent dealings."

"You could just leave me behind if I'm such a burden." she replies sarcastically.

He smirks at her, tone light, "You're right, I could leave you here with all the savage demons who want to use you up and leave you for dead yet here I am providing you with shelter, water, even clothes. I think I'm being quite a kind  _master,_ don't you?"

He watches her, amused with her shocked expression. Despite her disdain for the use of the word  _master,_ he wasn't wrong. So far he hadn't truly done anything to harm her, the wound on her neck her own doing.

"You're right...fine, I'll cooperate if-." she begins to say, but he doesn't seem pleased despite her defeated tone.

His hands hit the table, cutting off her speech with the sound of his hands hitting the table, "You are not in the position to be making bargains with me. You will cooperate no matter what, considering you belong to  _me._ "

 _I belong to no one_ sits on the tip of her tongue, but she holds it. His sudden mood swings were unnerving, and she wondered if it had something to do with his bandaged body. Was he in pain, or was this just how he was all the time? She could only imagine the horrors were mapped out on the skin beneath the dressings. He seems to reel himself in at her defiant silence, backing off and adjusting his rumpled suit.

Her eyes dart to the splintered wood in front of her, and anxiety sparks in her chest. If a little comment made him do that, what might he do if she fails to assist him? She doesn't want to think to much about it, swallowing the panicked lump in her throat as they stared each other down. Lost in her thoughts she had missed the transition of his expression from angry to a softer, contemplative look. She wondered if she could see guilt in there, too.

He was at her side, reaching out to her as one would a frightened animal, hands moving for her neck. Her mind reeled with all these emotions, he had her hesitantly comfortable, then scared, now nervous, she wasn't sure if she could keep this up. His bandaged fingers traced the black leather thoughtfully, and in her confusion she hand't noticed he had produced a blade until it sliced clean through the collar. She whimpered quietly, cringing as he gently pulled it away to reveal the damaged skin beneath with an apologetic look.

Her delicate throat was dry and inflamed, indentations indicating it had been on far too tight. Blood and dirt caked around where the edges had been, contrasting sharply with her pale complexion. He stared at her for a moment, expression unreadable to her as he stood to his full height and headed towards the door, shouldering the duffel bag. A questioning noise fell from her lips, hand massaging the damaged skin as he dropped the ruined collar in the trash. He pulled the remote Ringman had given him, the plastic cracking loudly in his tight grip, joining the collar in the waste bin.

"I do not require a device as barbaric as this to deal with you. Now, I am going out. Do not answer the door under any circumstances, and do not travel outside. If you make me come and find you, you will sorely regret it...and take a shower, you are absolutely filthy."

She had been touched, he hadn't said it, but it seemed as though he hated the thought of the torture device. Whatever his reasoning, his gentle demeanor was foreign but welcome to her, but he didn't fail to ruin the moment with his final mocking words.

She blinked incredulously, but her words were bewildered rather than biting, "You are so irritating."

He didn't snap at her, rather he seemed to be smirking at her. It wasn't always easy to tell with the gauze obscuring his features.

"As are you, little girl." and then he was gone, and she was alone again.


	4. Hell Frozen Rain

Streetlights and neon signs illuminated the cobblestone pathways as Gilver wandered the busy streets. His regal gait and intense eyes warded off any of the Demons from getting too close, a path opening for him on the sidewalk.

His skin prickled despite the destroyed nerves. The sight of the collar had made him sick to his stomach, a reminder of his own sufferings. His had been one of reverse spikes rather than electrocution, but a collar held the same symbolism no matter what damage it dealt. He wasn't about to go on a crusade to free all those wronged in the ways he had been, but he'd be damned if he would sink to their level.

The whole situation had irritated him, he hadn't expected to be effected by the sights in the Auction House. He, for a moment, had enjoyed the idea of being able to control someone and force them to meet his needs and not be able to oppose him. He never expected the queasy feeling, nor the rage that accompanied it when presented with the Priestess. This only further vexed him.

What had changed in him that he would care at all for the well being of a weak human girl? Was it simply association, or sympathy? Neither sat well with him.

A bell rang as he pushed open the metal door of a weapons dealer, ignoring the gruff complaint of the clerk, "Were closing soon."

Gilver eyed the merchandise behind the glass panels thoughtfully as he reached for the remaining bills in his pocket, "I'd like something small, easy to handle, large ammo capacity."

The store clerks eyes brightened at the sight of the cash, opening a door behind the counter, "I got just what you need, stranger."

* * *

At the click of the lock, her head snapped up from where it had been resting against her shoulder, hands running through her hair wearily. Gilver eyed her as he entered, dropping the duffel, now a few pounds heavier, onto the table. She blinked blearily at it, then at him in question.

"It's midnight, why are you not asleep?"

She shook her head, "I can't just sleep, this place is so...shady. Everything feels off, and all the commotion from the city doesn't help. Do demons ever sleep?"

"Demons require less to survive than humans do. Many can go a few days without food or sleep before feeling the effects." He responds, not really paying attention.

She heard a distinctive click that drained any fatigue from her system, now wide awake and waiting for him to face her. He holds out his hands, a pistol in one, and its empty magazine in the other.

"Do you know how to use one of these?" he inquires.

She nods, taking the weapon gently, "Then show me."

She raises an eyebrow his way as he drops an ammunition box onto the table. She takes her time loading the bullets, sliding the clip into place with a soft  _click._  The weight of the weapon is familiar, though not quite comforting. She placed it back on the table after flipping the safety, but he slid it back to her with a faint look of interest in his eyes.

"I expect you to be able to defend yourself should trouble arise when I am not around," he pauses for a moment as she eyes it thoughtfully "...and don't even think about shooting me, even a bullet to the head won't kill me, but it  _will_  serve to piss me off severely."

"Wouldn't dream of it," she mumbles sarcastically, cradling her head in her hand "...what about you?"

He scoffs, "I despise firearms. I will not use one unless absolutely necessary, and for that possible occasion I do have a special one, but I'd rather avoid it."

"But they seem more convenient than a sword, not to mention more destructive if you use the right thing." she sounds genuinely confused, eyes focused on the katana on his hip, not his beloved weapon, but something serviceable for the time being.

His fingers tap the hilt, a glint in his eyes despite his aloof stance, "Then you have not seen what I am capable of, if you think guns are more destructive."

She doesn't have a chance to mock his egotistical attitude before he's placing more items on the tabletop.

"There isn't much around that's practical and also safe for you to eat. These will have to suffice until we leave this place in the morning."

It's a hunk of bread, slightly stale, but far better than anything she's seen lately, "It's great, thank you Gilver."

The name sounds odd coming from her mouth, she almost stumbles over it as she can't help but think it's not very suitable for him, yet she can't think of what would be better. He nods in her direction before taking a seat in the armchair near the door while she begins breaking off pieces and placing them into her mouth daintily despite the incessant growling of her stomach.

His loud sigh roused her from her sleep once again, the remainder of the bread forgotten on the table as she blinked rapidly. How long had she been out?

"Why don't you rest?"

She shakes her head, finger brushing her disheveled locks in an attempt to busy herself.

He watches her small hands work as he eases into the worn chair, "You are safe here, now sleep. You may not have many chances later, and I will not carry you around."

His voice was stern rather than cold, surprising her. His raised hand cut her off from responding.

"Sleep. And use the bed, not the table."

"What about y-you?" she had zero intentions of sharing the bed with him, even if he hadn't been interested in harming her. She'd rather take the floor.

"I told you, as a demon I require less sleep than you, and I don't enjoy sharing accommodations with  _humans_. I'll stay right here."

The amount of disdain placed into one word was astonishing, she knew demons were not fond of humans but he was especially hateful. She might have haggled him for information if she hadn't been so exhausted, the dingy bed suddenly very appealing. She could feel his gaze on her as she lowered onto the sheets, but when she peeked over the covers, he had his nose deep in a book she hadn't seen before. Somehow she hadn't pegged him for a reader, and made a mental note to ask what it was later. Maybe if they could find some common ground she could forge more of a friendly relationship between them, something that wasn't just him mocking her and ordering her around.

 _'You are safe here'_ repeated in her head as she brought the musty covers to her cheek, unable to fight the warm feeling in her chest. The words almost sounded tender, at least when it came to him. She hadn't truly felt safe in a very long time, but his positioning at the door reassured her, and for whatever reason, he needed her in one piece. This was all enough comfort to allow her to rest.

* * *

She roused from her sleep in a concealed panic. She could  _feel_ something looming above her, and it's presence was nothing like Gilver's. She kept her eyes closed in hopes it wouldn't realize she had awakened, but it's mouth came closer to her face, rancid breath fanning over her cheeks.

"Weak demons should know better than to steal from others." It growled out, ripping away the sheets to expose her. She shrieked in fear, cursing herself for leaving the pistol on the table as it descended upon her. She tried to roll out from under it, but it's clawed hands gripped her and held her still, growling loudly at her resistance.

The expected agony never came, and she allowed herself to peek at the creature in confusion. It resembled an ogre, the inky black expanse of it's chest disrupted by a line of white. A second later, it split in half and disintegrated into twin piles of dust to reveal a panting Gilver, sword drawn, a dark stain setting into the fabric on his chest. He looked frazzled, eyes roaming her body in search of injuries, relaxing slightly when he saw she was unharmed.

"Y-you're hurt." She reaches for the wound, but he grabs her wrist and pulls her from the bed.

"Get your things, we've been found. We have to move."

She's wide awake, gathering her bag and her pistol, waiting for him to meet her at the door. He tosses a pair of boots her way, "Put them on."

She pulls them on without a word, old and worn but thankfully fitting as he leads them out the door. The hallways are quiet save for her panicked breathing, and just outside the front door she can see another pile of ash surrounded by dark stains on the stone.

"What do you mean 'they've found us'? How many are looking for us?"

"The one demon I encountered said a few, but only these two seemed to figure out our location. We should lose them easily in the woods, and the rain should wash away any scents, assuming they're intelligent enough to get that far." he responds plainly, regaining his composure rather quickly.

"Where did you go?" she asks sharply between breaths, not hiding her displeasure at him leaving her alone.

"Mind your tongue, I kept my word, no harm came to you. I had to get one more thing, or else I wouldn't have left."

Again, he isn't wrong. There's not much she can say to him, so she stays quiet. She can only blame herself for relying on a stranger, especially in a place like this.

The girl speeds up a bit to get a look at the wound on his chest, "Are you gonna be okay? That looks pretty nasty. We should take care of it soon, or it'll get infected."

His cold gaze slows her down a bit, falling into step just behind him again. He's silent as they navigate the trees in the dark and she wonders how good his vision is, or if she's just  _that_  clumsy as she trips over roots and rocks, his stride never faulting even with his wound. He always moved so fluidly, with an elegance that seemed unfitting to a demon. How he even has any idea what direction they're moving in is beyond her. The rain he mentioned begins to fall, and she suppresses a shiver as her rags begin to soak through to her skin. Gilver appears unaffected as the trees open up to reveal a field, the mouth of a valley to their left.

"If we travel non stop, I think we can make it to our destination within a few days. This place is called the Flooded Valley, due to the constant storms. I do hope you can keep up." Gilver muses, glancing down as her teeth chatter quietly.

"I can keep up just fine. I want this to be o-over as much as you do." She starts down the worn path, boots squelching in the mud.

There's a hardness to her tone, and he hopes her attitude can keep her moving at that pace. 

Meanwhile, he's livid. One simple little demon had added yet another laceration to the collection on his chest, and the wound burned hot in contrast to the cold of his skin. Not only that, but another had slipped past him and almost succeed in robbing him of his only chance at recovery. The ball of dread that had settled in his stomach when she had screamed was only now receding the further they traveled into unpopulated territory. He was getting weaker by the day, the stress on his body taking his toll and now he had three more things to worry about, cold, infection, and a little human female.

How far he had fallen, teeth clenching at the searing pain as he fought to stay collected between the anger and agony. How long could he truly last like this, between the traveling and the unknown amount of time it could take to train the girl. He could only hope his body would hold out long enough, despite feeling like he was running off the fumes of determination only.

The girl sneezes again, the high pitched sound somewhat irritating yet amusing, drawing him from his dark thoughts as her quick pace is slowing again, falling into step just ahead of him. She freezes as something is draped over her shoulders, glancing to see the rich blue of his suit jacket, warm and somehow not soaked through. She stops and glances at him in question, eyes following him as he overtakes her. 

"Water resistant lining. You'll be of no use if you fall ill."

She pulls it tightly around her shoulders, watching his white dress shirt soak through with concern, "I can't take this" How would his bandages hold up in this weather? 

He ignores her, longing for silence, making no attempt to take back the coat as she keeps thrusting it towards him in protest. At some point she gives up, mumbling a 'thank you' that he pretends not to have heard, averting his gaze from her blue clad form the the dark storm clouds that mimicked his state of mind. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the kudos guys and gals, appreciate it. <3


	5. Promise

The raging storm eventually let up the further they traveled past the twin valleys, the fields growing into dense forest. Warm sunlight shone through the leaves, leaving them dappled in golden spots that dried up their drenched attire. Somewhere nearby, the sound of roaring water could be heard, and the soft crunching of leaves halts. Gilver turns to see the girl gazing wondrously into the trees, sunlight forming a halo over her dark hair, amber eyes glowing with interest.

His irritated sigh breaks the drone of rushing water, and she tears herself away from the sound and follows wordlessly behind. Shes buzzing with nervous energy, stomach churning and threatening to rid itself of the hunk of bread she had split with her demon companion. He wasn't helping, his body language betraying his distress despite his aloof attitude. Concerned, she asked him about it but was given no answer, per usual. What could he possibly be worried about? Were they lost, or were his injuries bothering him? Each time she offered to tend to his wounds his reprimands became harsher, and no matter how she snapped back he wasn't having it.

She rolled her eyes at the memory, the man was obviously too proud for his own good. Typical.

The trees open up to reveal an old fashioned watermill in a clearing, and the girls mouth gapes once again. It's a large, quaint building with hanging vines and various forms of overgrown vegetation surrounding it. Gilver is uninterested, his gaze focused on an old man who meets his glare with a friendly, knowing grin.

"Well hello there, what brings such unique guests to my home?" he radiates joy, his colorful robes and bright smile ease her nerves a bit as she peeks out from behind her companion.

"Are you Banon?" the old man is unaffected by his icy tone, simply nodding.

Gilver places a hand against her back and gives her a light shove and she stumbles forward, shooting him a threatening glance before staring doe eyed at the man. He placed his hand on her chin, gently prompting her to look up at him. She yelps in confused fear at the touch, and faintly she hears a growl rumble in Gilver's chest. The old turns her face side to side before she wrenches herself from his grip, bouncing off the demons chest behind her with a grunt, his bright demeanor dimming slightly.

"You bring me a girl brimming with pure energy in such a haggard state? She's half dead! Have you no respect for such precious cargo?" Banon chastises, ushering her into the large cabin without another look at the bandaged devil.

"Cargo?" the girl hisses, attempting to resist his strong grip as he leads her to a kitchen, sitting her down at the wood table with an apology.

"Just a phrase, I apologize." he chuckles at her bristling, rummaging through various cabinets as Gilver follows in behind, glowering.

"How did you know?" she asks as he drops a bundle of herbs on the table.

"Ah, magical beings have a certain...aura about them. They're very warm, and only demons or witches can pick up on it. Now, chew on these. It's buret, it will give you some of your strength back."

She eyes them suspiciously, refusing them, "My condition is not really Gilver's fault. I was this way when he found me, so you shouldn't blame him."

Banon raises a snowy, ungroomed eyebrow, "Gilver is his name, huh?"

They stare each other down, and bandaged man growls, "Cease the small talk, I can tell you know why I am here, old man."

"Yes, and I'm afraid I cannot help you."

Gilver growls, closing the space between them in two impressive strides, "What do you mean?"

He towers over the man, glaring down at him intensely, but Banon is unafraid, "You've waited too long. You don't have much time left, and if you intend for me to get this girl to help you, it will take longer than you have. I am sorry."

Gilver's snarling slowly quiets, his expression unreadable as the old mage backs off.

"W-what do you mean he doesn't have a lot of time left? He's dying?" the girl is paler than usual, confused gaze set on her stiff companion.

The man shakes his head, "I am not surprised he left you in the dark, he was always a proud one. Gilver is afflicted with a series of curses that are suppressing his demonic ability to heal, as well as most of his strength and energy. He's been slowly succumbing to his injuries for some time now, and now his body is giving out. It's a surprise he made it this long."

 _'He's dying. This entire time he's been on his deathbed? No wonder he's been so moody.'_ her voice cracks slightly as she speaks, "What the hell was I supposed to do to help?"

"With the right training, you could lift the curses and his demonic blood would do the rest, but I gather that you have no grasp on your abilities. It would take weeks to train you, and the intensity would be too much for you in your state when you have no idea how to control your energy. It's an impossible task." He shakes his head sadly as she leaps up from her seat, moving to the mans side.

"You need to sit." she pleads, gently tugging on his arm before he wrenches it from her grip. She cuts off his snarling sharply, ignoring the slight sting of his hostility.

"But we have to do something, we can't just...watch him die. I bet I can do it, you've got to let me try."

"I don't think you understand-"

"Please?" she begs earnestly, feeling Gilver's intense gaze bore into the back of her head as Banon sighs in defeat.

"We can try, but I don't want you to get your hopes up... this truly is a daunting task. Now, eat the buret and rest for now, I'll prepare you a meal, and then we can get started on some basics."

She nods gratefully, chewing on the bitter leaves with a grimace, avoiding Gilver's icy eyes. "Is there a shower I can use before we eat?"

"Down the river is a waterfall, that's what we use out here. Water is impeccably clean, the woods are pretty safe during the day."

"Ah...okay." Shes in no position to be picky, but the lack of privacy isn't comforting, empty woods or not. Banon seems to think of something and leaves the room, his finger up in a motion for them to stay still.

When he returns, there's a bundle of clothes in his arms, "One of my apprentices left a lot of her belongings behind when she left, she was about your size. You can take anything you need, and use her room."

"Thank you, I appreciate it." she bows, taking the clothes with a shy smile. She exits the cabin and follows the creek back the way she had come in.

 _'So the rushing water was a waterfall.'_  Despite the prickle of discomfort she was excited to see something so beautiful, as well as to get a weeks worth of sweat and grime off of her skin. She halted on the path as she felt Gilver approach, turning and waiting for him curiously. He appeared through the trees, hands in the pockets of his jacket that she had returned previously.

"Is something wrong?" she cocks her head to the side as he keeps walking, and she follows.

"It is not wise for you to wander off alone." he answers simply.

"Oh, no, no, no. You are not coming with me while I shower. He said the woods are safe!"

He raises a brow, "I have no intention of 'peeping' if that is what you think. I simply am coming along to ensure you don't get into trouble. It may not even be a demon, with your gracelessness you may fall into the water and bump your head."

She crinkles her nose and quickens her stride to overtake him, "You're such an ass."

"Wait."

She falters at the seriousness of his tone, the genuine confusion laced with it.

"Why are you so keen on assisting me?"

She turns to face him, incredulous that he would ask with such an obvious answer. It was unlike him. "Am I supposed to just let you rot when I have the ability to help?"

"So that's the only reason?"

Did he sound disappointed? Her eyes soften a bit, "Well, no. You may be an ass but you don't seem like a bad person. You've been pretty nice to me, I wanna help."

He huffed a surprised laugh, "Nice to you?"

"Well, yeah. You fed me, you removed my collar, you gave me your jacket. You even spoke to me like a person once or twice. Most people don't even do that much for me." she jokes awkwardly, looking at the ground to hide the slightest hint of blush on her cheeks.

He  _laughed._ It was such a handsome sound, a dark chuckle that she hadn't been expecting. She wasn't sure he was capable of laughing unless it was maniacally. She smiles at the thought. Was he warming up to her? She could only hope.

He hides his frown as he contemplates the implications of her statement, "You have very low standards if you consider that kind. I did all those things out of necessity."

 _'Nevermind'_ she frowns, "The collar was necessary too?"

Her voice trailed off as he stared, at a loss for words. She relaxes at her silent victory, he _was_ legitimately kind somewhere deep down. She knew it, of course, but the nonverbal confirmation from him was a reassurance. She turns on her heel and follows the river, dimly aware that he was still following silently behind her.

* * *

Faintly, he heard her splashing around in the water below. He hadn't seen her smile before they had arrived at the falls, not genuinely. She practically beamed at the sight before shooing him away. He now sat at the top, unable to see her from his vantage point as he scanned the treeline in thought.

She was confusing, she had no real reason to want to help him so bad. He was nice? What a joke. He held no power currently, and the allure of his looks was far gone under the dressings. She had no knowledge of his lineage or anything related to devils at all, so what else could she possibly be after? He doubted it was all genuine, but he couldn't find another reason.

He wondered if she was capable of curing him while being so frail and uneducated on the subjects. Banon certainly had little faith in her, but she seemed determined to try, though her tenacity came and went. She seemed to have little confidence in her own abilities unless challenged.

His fate was held in the hands of an insecure little girl, depending on her to learn magic in a mere few weeks, or he would perish. He groaned, to have come so far and die such a miserable, pathetic death. He scowls as his chest throbs, the pain spreading as the days go by. He hasn't taken the time to change the gauze or look at the wound, not wanting to expose himself to her, and not cleaning the laceration was coming back to bite him. Perhaps tonight he would finally have some privacy.

The splashing below ceased, distracting him briefly as he peered over the edge to see her dressed in simple clothes, a black tank top and jeans, motioning for him to come down. Gracefully, he jumped to her at the bottom as she observed his stormy eyes with concern.

"Hey, don't worry. I'm gonna try my best, okay? I'll help you."

He saw the muscles in her arm twitch as she held herself back from reaching out to him, head whipping around and spray droplets of water on him as Banon's voice boomed through the trees.

"Come on." she offers a small, unsure smile that isn't returned as they begin trekking back through the woods, the sun setting behind them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pretty sure I mentioned this before but all my stuff is unbeta'd and written late at night so excuse typos and other little things lol  
> Thanks for the kudos all. <3


	6. Small Sanctuary

"So, young one, have you any idea at all how to utilize your spirituality?" Banon inquired as he exited and re-entered the room over the course of dinner, scolding her when she simply pushed the contents of her plate from side to side rather than eating it. Her mind was a jumbled mess, more so than usual, the overload of information leaving her unable to focus on anything but how impossible this all seemed.

"Not at all, I wasn't even aware of it until a few months ago, and never used it on purpose." He drops a wooden box onto the table with a startling bang, unknown contents clattering around inside.

"It's unusual for someone like you to be born outside of a clan. What about your parents, did either of them show signs of being...gifted?"

She huffs a bitter laugh, not meeting his eyes, "My parents were losers, not magical and certainly not part of a clan."

He ponders that for a moment, staring hard at her, "Well, unusual but not unheard of, but as I said earlier it's extremely unfortunate that you haven't been trained at all up until this point. In normal circumstances you would have started your training as soon as you could form words, controlling such an energy takes years of constant practice."

Gilver's frown looks like it might split his face in half, and she was growing more flustered by the word. Banon shakes his head sadly at their reactions, "I told you, this won't be easy, but if you are a competent, quick learner we may be able to make this work by focusing all your energy into learning one simple action - cleansing."

He lifts the lid off of the box, and the girl stares cautiously at the various items he places onto the table. With the container open, demonic auras began pouring out, some stronger and more sinister than others. Strewn about the table is various pieces of jewelry, plates, glass trinkets, and even a few weapons adorned with beautiful carvings and jewels. She and Gilver share an inquisitive look that Banon answers as he takes a seat.

"We're going to do some exercises to get you to be able to summon your energy at will, and then you'll practice using it on these. These are various pieces I've collected from demons and devils and over the next few days I'm going to infuse some of my energy into each of them. You'll have to learn how to purge one energy, the negative, without effecting the other. In the case of Gilver, if you fail to expunge just the energy of his curses, you may end up purifying him, draining him of his energy or even killing him, but that is highly unlikely with how weak you are, however we shouldn't risk it. Getting your energy to surface is easy, but mastering it enough to do this is going to take incredible discipline."

Gilver's brows twitch as he pulls the cup of tea from his lips slowly, "Purify me?"

"Yes, she could purify your demonic energy if she isn't careful. That's why she'll be practicing with these. The risk is minimal, but if you have any objections I suggest you speak up now." He challenges the devil with a raised brow.

She shifts slightly, feeling as though she may explode with nervous energy. Beside her, Gilver is quiet and seemingly calm but she could feel his rage rolling off of him in waves, visible in the whites of his knuckles as he griped the handle of the tea cup tightly, the delicate porcelain somehow not shattering. His silence is taken as a no.

The situation couldn't possibly get any worse, either way there's a huge possibility he would die and she would be to blame. She fights back the overwhelmed tears burning in her eyes, the last thing he needs to see is her apprehension.  _Her weakness_ as he would put it so elegantly had no place here, she had to be strong and focus if she was going to do this. Yet, she found herself questioning what she would do if she couldn't. She was positive she couldn't handle having someones blood on her hands even if it was a stranger, a demon who would hold her against her will if she wasn't so willing to cooperate, she reminded herself, but a person all the same.

She stole a glance at her unusual companion as he slid his chair scraped loudly against the wooden floorboards, swiftly rising and exiting the kitchen without a word, coat and decorative cords on his sword streaming behind him. She cringed at the sound and fought calling out to him, recognizing he needed to be alone and that she would probably fall apart if he directed that anger at her in her current state.

Instead, she decided to take advantage of his absence and pushed her own chair back quietly, "I want to start now please. My stomachs too upset to eat and time is precious."

He blinks, debating it. She can eat it later, he supposed, when she uses up all her energy and tires herself out. He nods to her and motions her to follow him to the back of the cottage.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" He asks quietly as he walks her down a hallway to a glass door. It's a greenhouse of sorts, lacking tables as all the greenery hangs from the ceiling in long tendrils, scraping the dirt and stone floors. She silently wonders how beautiful it must look in the day, sunlight streaming through the roof creating rays of light through the plants that dapple the stone floors in light. A few lanterns serve to illuminate the room, glowing softly against the black wall of darkness that was the woods.

She snorts in disbelief, "I already told you, I'm sure. I'm not the one at risk, so what's the problem?"

He sits, but she doesn't follow his actions, instead choosing to stand and stare him down vehemently.

"One, you are at risk. You're spiritual energy is  _your_ energy. If you use to much of it you could very well die, or at least become weak and ill. It is why your kind is not plentiful. Two, I do not know how you know Gilver, or for how long, but he is...dangerous. Has quite the reputation as a fearsome and merciless demon, he isn't some innocent, kind hearted soul as you may think. You may not want to put as much effort into this if you knew his past."

Her stance slacks as he speaks, joining him in the dirt by sitting on her knees, "I assumed as much, being a demon, and who someone was in the past doesn't matter to me, right now he's giving me my freedom and has been kind, so I'll do my best to repay that. As for the energy, I don't think it's likely. How much could this possibly take?" she asks calmly, trying to soothe her fried nerves.

A silvery brow raises at her choices of words, "When one does not know how to control it, they could very well output too much at once. This risk is high the longer it takes to discipline, 20 some odd years in this case. Do you understand?"

Her shoulders tense, but she forces herself to breathe deeply as she nods.

"You said you became aware of your magic recently, how?"

"Uh, I got angry or frightened and it just kind of happened, I would burn whatever I was touching." she says sheepishly, and he nods in understanding.

"It's that warmth I mentioned you emanate, it's literal, if you focus intently enough you should be able to feel it in your belly. Clear your head - I can tell you're flustered, and try. There must be no emotion involved in this process, especially when it comes to the real thing, or you may fail."

He urges her to relax, and she repositions on the ground, crossing her legs. The greenhouse was quiet aside from the soft chirping of crickets, allowing her to attempt to concentrate as he asked. She had always felt slightly too warm for her body, but she never realized the heat was concentrated in her torso until prompted to feel for it. It was faint, but she could feel the slightest hint of it spreading to her limbs, then quickly draining away. She huffed a frustrated sigh, but Banon smiled kindly, moving to pat her knee, but she shifted away from the touch. He paid no mind to it, pointing a thick finger her way.

"I felt that, very faint, but that is what you're looking for. Keep trying, get it into your hands and hold it there."

Feeling slightly reassured, she closed her eyes and resumed concentration, but the feeling was fleeting. His instructions had been so vague that it was almost pointless. Feeling it was one thing, but summoning it to such a specific place? After some minutes, her chest began to throb, but she felt the energy spread lower to her forearms and legs. She was hit with a wave of fatigue but grinned despite it, Banon returning it reluctantly.

"Patience, I told you, too much so suddenly is draining. Less power, more control."

So it hadn't been quite correct, but it was something. Before she could begin again, she heard Banon's retreating footsteps in the dirt. Confused, she turned to watch him leave.

"You may use this space as much and as long as you like. Once I'm satisfied with your output, we can move onto the next step. There may be hope yet."

She visibly brightened at his admission, feeling some of the dread slip away with him as the glass door closed behind him. It hadn't felt like anything, she certainly didn't feel powerful or magical but the old sorcerer was clearly pleased. Maybe it would serve to cheer Gilver up a little bit as well. She'd love to see his irate and hopeless attitude wane, maybe even see him laugh again as he did at the waterfall. He was always so uptight, it made it hard to be around him. Being stuck with a stranger was hard enough on her without feeling like she was constantly annoying him despite being as quiet and out of the way as possible, at least when he wasn't being rude.

Maybe he wouldn't see her as such a weak, useless human, but she doubted it. Still, she wondered what this meant for herself. So she could purify things, but what else could she do? Cast spells, use it as a weapon, become a witch? She hadn't really thought to ask with everything going on. Did she even want to pursue this after everything was said and done?

She let out a melancholic sigh, it might be her only choice despite her feelings, once Gilver had no more use for her she'd have nowhere to go. She refused to acknowledge the disappointment she feels at that thought,  as cold as he was she was beginning to get used to his presence and she cursed herself. She knew better than to get used to people, to arrangements.  
Banon might possibly keep her around as a student if she asked, judging by the rooms left by past apprentices it seems he took a lot of aspiring sorcerers and witches in. Having things to focus on and do for herself might be rewarding, or at the very least give her some purpose.

_'I'll decide these things once the time comes, for now...'_

She urges herself to calm down once again, rubbing her face furiously a she settles back into the task,  _get the power in your hands._

* * *

Hours had passed since he stormed out of the cottage, spending his time sulking in the frigid river. The wound was getting worse, edges red, raw and oozing pus. He washed the laceration as best as he could, gritting his teeth through the searing pain. He berated himself, having left in such a rush he hadn't even looked for the medical supplies he had needed, but it would have to wait now. With the multiple bundles of gauze kept in his bag, he spent an hour tediously re-wrapping his body, carelessly wrapping spots too tight over and over in his irritation.

 _'She could purify_ me?  _I'd rather die than be left in this pitiful state of humanity.'_ he secures the gauze around his hand with a sharp tug, ignoring the dull pain it brings.

Pain, pain, pain. All he had known in the last few years when he had spent his whole life mostly free of it, even the most severe of wounds healing in mere minutes to hours. How could humans bear to live so carelessly when just tripping could tear skin and muscle, when falling from petty heights could leave bones broken for weeks? How could that girl in there snarl and talk back to him so freely when he could end her with a flick of his wrist? To be so fragile was maddening.

With the last bandage secured and his clothes pulled on, he decided it was time to head back to the cottage to find out the sleeping arrangements. As it came into sight between the silhouettes of trees, he felt a faint pulse in the air that was vaguely familiar, the girl? How had he felt that from so far away when his senses were so dull?

He passed the house, eyes and body drawn to the glass house behind it. Inside covered in the warm glow of lit lanterns she sat, eyes closed and legs crossed. Her nose crinkled in concentration and he felt another pulse, barely tangible compared to the last. Her posture slumped right after, leaning her head heavily into her hands. She either didn't notice his energy or didn't care, not bothering to compose herself as she always did when approached, especially by him. Her lax attitude threw him off, and with a closer look he could tell she was exhausted as possibly half asleep in the dirt.

 _'How long has she been out here?'_ he wonders, his hand reaching for the door which opened with a soft creak. He cursed the both of them, mostly the old man, for being so careless. Safe forest or not, how could he let her stay out here in the night for all to see, and not even bother to lock the door? Who knows what she could draw in by expending energy like that. The soft rustling of his suit and the creaking of the door rouses her and she blinks in confusion at him for a moment before shifting back into a sitting position, fixing her hair.

"Gilver?"

"Hn."

She lifts herself from the ground, legs and back stiff from sitting for who knows how long. The old mage was certainly right about how draining it all was. She hadn't perfected her technique yet, but she was mostly able to summon at will, though unsteadily. At one point, it even concentrated in her hands, though only for a moment. 

"Banon said there may be hope for you - us, I guess. I think I'm starting to get it a bit, though he did say this was the easy part."

He nods, "I felt it. You're still having trouble balancing it."

His tone wasn't entirely reproachful, but his permanent frown was still there and she felt herself wilt a bit.

_'I guess it's gonna take more to get him to believe in me, I can't blame him I suppose...'_

"You need rest. Let's see what Banon has arranged." his words prompt a yawn from her as she nods, the sound more of a squeak than anything, and again he is baffled by the high pitched sounds she seems to make. He discovers more and more as she's around and he begins to wonder if she isn't part mouse. Regardless, he places a hand at the small of her back and urges her forward despite how she stiffens at the touch.

"Old man?" Gilver's dark timbre echoes off the high ceilings of the house, and for a moment it seems as though he isn't in before his own raspy voice bellows back.

"I was wondering when you two would turn in, night owls, the both of you. I can't stand it." He appears out of a door at the end of the hall, obviously roused from his own sleep by Gilver.

He gives them a once over, but his eyes focus on the azure eyes intently, as if he knows something she doesn't. He tears his gaze away from Gilvers and onto her, his voice proud.

"You we're getting pretty good out there until you started getting tired. Tomorrow will surely yield better results. Now, for your room." He resists the urge to ruffle her hair as he would any young student, aware of her aversion, she's oddly like Gilver in that sense, he thinks as he opens the door to their left.

The inside is simple, a double window, a twin bed, armchair and a dresser. The odd part was the loads of boxes stacked in one corner, ancient and covered in dust. She sneezes, and Banon quirks a smile, "I apologize for the dust, I didn't have much time to tidy up aside from the bedding, I hope you understand. Your arrival was...unexpected, and I don't entertain visitors often anymore."

She shakes her head quickly, bowing slightly as she crosses threshold "No, it's great, thank you for your hospitality."

When Banon doesn't direct Gilver elsewhere he clears his throat, and she stops her awkward fidgeting. He couldn't possibly...

"I told you, I didn't have much time to prepare. I have to work on the various runes and trinkets that will be used for her, clearing out the other rooms was secondary. It's temporary, I assure you." he grins as the girl starts to babble, ignoring Gilvers piercing glare.

"B-but there's only one bed, and it's a twin. Isn't there a couch or something I could take?"

He shakes his head, "I left extra blankets in the closet if one of you wishes to take the floor, now get some sleep, the both of you. If you want optimal time to train with me you'll need to be up at a decent hour." with that, he retreats into his own room, leaving them to awkwardly avoid the others gaze. Wordlessly, she settles into the armchair. It's old and worn, but large enough that she could curl up in it and possibly be comfortable, maybe there were extra pillows somewhere.

"What are you doing?" Gilver asks evenly.

"Sleeping, and you should too." she mumbles as she settles in, too tired to argue with him.

"Take the bed. I won't be sleeping, I don't need it as you do."

A single amber eye snaps open, "No, in fact it seems you need it much more than I do. I'm not moving, now go to bed." she growled, he was so damn  _infuriating._ Dying, and yet he's too proud to admit he needs to rest. 

His lip quirked at the sound of possibly the most non-intimidating growl to ever grace his ears. She curled into the furniture with her back to him, already half asleep when his arms wormed their way under her body. Without any effort he hoisted her up, chest absorbing her puzzled, sleepy protests and weak resistance. He dropped her onto the mattress and planted himself in the chair with a smirk at her frazzled appearance.

"Seems you are moving." he states smugly. She tries to lift herself off the bed but is pinned by his warning gaze.

Mumbling meaningless insults she shifts to a comfortable position, the bed feeling much more plush and new than the chair, cradling her heavy, lifeless limbs. If she wasn't so drained she would have dragged him over, but she couldn't physically bring herself to do so. So, he would win for now, but tomorrow he would be sleeping in a bed if she had to clean out a room herself.

He hears her drowsy thanks as he pulls out his book and not even a moment later her breathing is even, asleep. He decides he isn't entirely displeased with the arrangement, he's grown somewhat used to sharing a space and would much rather keep an eye on her when in such a vulnerable state. To ensure her safety, so she can get to curing him, he tells himself.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had no idea how to end this lmao rip. I hope people are enjoying this otherwise, I really like this idea though it's hard to write. <3


	7. Another Warm Body

She awoke feeling just as, if not worse than the night before. Her limbs ached and her body refused to lift itself from the bed. She groaned as bright sunlight filtered through the thin lace curtains, decorative shadows adorning Gilver's sleeping form. She raised a brow in his direction, a smile playing on her lips. His head hung, chin on his chest, book abandoned in his lap as his chest rose and fell softly.

 _'Don't need any sleep, my ass.'_ her lips quivered as she silenced a laugh.

She knew it was only a matter of time before he passed out. All the days prior he would be wide awake and busy when she rose, probably keeping watch and never showing a sign of weariness. To see him so peaceful was new and to leave himself vulnerable in her presence was odd. Did he trust her, or was he just too exhausted to care?

Slipping out of bed and ignoring the heaviness in her limbs, she draped the blanket over his lap carefully as to not wake him, tip toeing out of the room.

"So, you're finally awake." Banon quirks a grin at her as she stole a glance at the skylights.

She felt like she had hardly slept, yet the sun was high in the sky. It must have been early afternoon at least. She shifted uncomfortably, babbling an apology as he chuckled heartily.

"No worries, dear. I told you it'd wear you out. Now, come eat and get prepared for the day."

She argued with Banon over some strange fruit he encouraged her to eat, a bowl of green berries that tasted bitter but left her feeling full and energized. She kept looking over the old man's shoulder, expecting Gilver to join them, but he was still sound asleep. She debated waking him up for breakfast, but Banon was already shooing her out as she devoured the last of her meal.

"Go and get dressed to begin again, you are not confined to the greenhouse during the day, but do not wander far. I'll be joining you soon."

She blinked, slightly disappointed. She had hoped to have some time to clear out a bed for her companion but this  _was_ more important. She entered the room she had been guided to and began to rummage for an outfit, amazed by the amount of things left behind by the previous tenant. Amid all of Banon's obnoxious chests and storage were clothes, shampoo's, magazines and other things she planned on making good use of. Pulling out another pair of jeans, her eyes were drawn to a set of robes hung on the closet door.

They were beautiful, the golden accents on the white cloth exuding elegance. It was more like a dress than anything, and she wondered if they were meant to be a type of uniform, like Banon's red and green robes. She shook her head with a chortle, she could never see herself wearing something as extravagant as that. Slipping on the clean outfit, she exited the room.

* * *

Gilver sighed in the warm sunlight, stretching carefully as to not disturb his wounds, but failed. His chest stung with hot, throbbing pain that shot down his limbs. It was midday already, and the girl was nowhere to be found. Feeling overheated, he eyed the blanket in his lap, balling it up and tossing it onto the messy bed.

_'Foolish girl, always doing unnecessary things.'_

With a groan he headed into the bathroom, but rifling through the medicine cabinet was no good. No antibiotics, no alcohol, no bandages.

 _'Wonderful.'_ his frown deepened as he found the cottage to be empty, remnants of breakfast and an open door evidence of where his companions went.

He wandered the perimeter until he came to the waterfall where the girl sat at the top, deep enough in concentration that she didn't notice him.

"Best not to disturb her, for your own good." Banon warns lightly.

Gilver's eyes lazily wandered to the old man, "What are you doing?"

He was placing wards on the trunk of a tree, and with a quick glance to the left he could see more spaced out on other trees and rocks.

"There's a lot of demonic activity in the area, probably due to her expelling energy as wildly as she is. It doesn't help that a certain  _someone_  caused a ruckus down in Voidvos, leaving some of them quite restless. These should create a barrier strong enough to keep them away, so long as I don't overextend my abilities. I'll have to teach her how to create one of these once she learns how to cleanse."

Gilver doesn't flinch, cold but curious, "How do you know of that?"

He barks a laugh that catches the girls attention as it echoes off the rocks she sits on, peeking at them with one eye.

"A rumor of a "priestess" in my lands? I was going to go down there and buy her myself, truth be told. Then a certain half demon threatened the auctioneer and whisked their high ticket item away. Though it doesn't matter, you ended up here either way, so it still works in my favor."

Gilver's eyes turn to flint, taking a menacing step forwards, though Banon did not flinch.

"Don't growl at me, Vergil. Even with that get-up and weak aura, it's unmistakably you. Any demon worth their salt could tell."

Vergil glances at the girl who seems to be struggling to focus and Banon reassures him, "She can't hear us, though I doubt she would know anything of the Sparda twins nor have any business with them. You need not be so defensive."

"I knew you we're not an ordinary codger." Gilver commented coolly.

"I wasn't hiding it necessarily," he shrugs, glancing at the water "...but I figured the last thing she needed was to meet more strange demons after her time in the city. She's skittish enough as it is, if you don't factor in what troubles might have occurred during her captivity." 

Gilver nodded his head once, cold eyes thoughtful as Banon smoothed the last strip of paper onto a stone.

"Don't worry, I wont say a word if you wont," He gave a cheeky wink, though the humor was lost on the half-demon "...the barrier here is finished, so I'll be returning to the cabin." Banon stared into the trees for a moment, pale eyes crinkling before turning his attention back.

"You're looking rough, have you been taking care of yourself? Maybe you should come back with me, get some food in ya?"

Banon waited but Gilver left his side, heading towards the waterfall instead. With a sigh, he retreated back into the woods, "Stubborn fool."

"What are you doing?" the girl called from above him as he settled onto a rock, barely audible over the sound of the rushing water.

"Meditating."

She snorted, and he furrowed his eyebrows, offering a glance as she leaned over the edge to observe him, hair cascading down past her cheeks.

"For someone who meditates you're pretty angry and moody all the time." her voice chimed with mirth, watching him curiously.

He relaxed into the warmth of the stone, eyes closed, "Perhaps that is because I can't find any time to, having to constantly watch over you."

"Hey, no one asked you to watch me, I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself." She snaps at him from her vantage point, but he seemed unaffected.

"Then you should be getting back to training, shouldn't you?" he replied, aloof.

She was silent aside from the sound of feet scraping on stone and a quiet mutter, prompting him to look upwards. Was she storming off? His lip quirked upwards but fell as she didn't take another step.

In a moment he was in front of her, staring out into the treeline where the cause for distress stared back, pitch black eyes locking with blue in challenge. It didn't move, broad shoulders shifting slightly with its breathing as Gilver's hand reached for the grip of his sword, the weapon leaving it's sheath with a soft metallic whisper. The grassy clearing shifted with the wind, the only sound besides her harsh whisper.

"Why is it just standing there like that?" her voice wavered despite her confident stance, unable to tear her eyes away from the sickly pale demon from behind Gilver.

"It's challenging us. It's smart enough to not attack the barrier."

She stared at him in alarm as he took a calm step forward, feet passing the faint glowing blue of the border only she and Banon could see, sword drawn. Gravel crunched softly under the heel of his shoe as he strode confidently, seemingly oblivious to her incredulous sputtering.

"Then that means were safe in here, you don't have to get rid of it." she panics as he continues to ignore her, rushing to his side and tugging on his suit jacket impulsively.

His eyes snap to her, and with a particularly hard shove she tumbles back behind the border as the demon finally begins to stalk out of the trees, something akin to a grin etched into it's hardened features. She grits her teeth at the pain as she hits the ground, hands scraping on the stone and pebbles as they scattered in different directions, breaking the eerie silence. What exactly was he trying to prove?

"Get back here before you hurt yourself more over some stupid demonic dick measuring contest!" she growls, pissed and terrified at the same, getting worse as he continued to ignore her. He was all menace, but something was wrong. His stance was weak, and he was failing to control his heavy breathing.

 _'He's gonna get himself killed'_ the demon circled Gilver slowly, but it's eyes weren't on it's opponent, occasionally flicking her way instead as she began rifling through her rucksack.

"Eyes here, scum." Gilver's sword snapped downwards, whipping through the air loudly to garner it's attention.

It growled at his words, crouching before pouncing at him, both arms reaching for his shoulders. Quickly, but with a grimace of pain she didn't miss, his sword came out and severed one of the arms, his foot coming up and kicking the creature to the dirt with a stumble. It rebounded off the ground with a screech, the blood from the wound splattering onto the ground as it grazed Gilvers chest with it's other arm, ripping his jacket as he fell backwards with a quiet grunt.

She cursed loudly, heart thumping wildly as she streaked past the border with her gun raised. It moved to loom over him, but at the sound of her gunfire it's target changed, turning it's snarling face her way as her shots kicked up dirt instead of hitting their target. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she attempted to steady her aim but before she could blink it was on her, pinning her into the grass with it's one arm. Teeth snapped at her, spit and rancid breath fanning over her face, then blood as it stuttered above her. As it went limp, she rolled from under it, staring up at a bloody, panting Gilver.

"Stupid girl, what did you think you were doing?" He snarled fiercely at her, chest heaving and dressings wet with sweat.

She snapped right back, "What were  _you_ doing? Look at you, you're about to kill over. I was just trying to help."

He relented for a moment as he stared at her prone form, "Are you unharmed?"

She blinked, some of her anger ebbing and leaving her trembling with residual fear and adrenaline. She looked down at herself to see the bloody mess the demon had left on her, but she herself wasn't hurt. Before she could answer, his snarling resumed as he gripped his chest, knees hitting the dirt with a thud.

"Gilver?" she was by his side in a moment, trying to remove his hands from his chest, but even in this state she couldn't get him to budge. From what she could see, no new wounds had formed.

" _What_  is going on?" Banon panted, stumbling over his robes as he stood at the foot of the falls.

"Gilver's hurt! I... I'm coming down."

She attempted to shoulder his weight but didn't want to drag him, she pleaded, "Please, help me out here."

He shook her off weakly, shakily getting to his feet, giving her a chance to catch him as he stumbled again, "Stop being so damn stubborn."

He couldn't argue with her this time, consciousness slipping as she fought to carry him along. Banon joined her, shouldering the rest of his weight. He wasn't nearly as heavy as he looked, and she wondered if he had been eating properly. Even being as light as he was, they struggled to get him back to the cabin, both covered in a sheen of sweat as they passed the threshold.

"What happened out there?" Banon questioned as he laid her companion out on the bed, cutting away his tattered suit with a pair of scissors.

"There was a demon outside the border, and he went out there and tried to fight it. But it didn't seem to hit him hard, I don't know what happened." Then it hit her, his previous wounds. Infection? Did he have less time than they predicted?

"Too proud for his own good. I need you to get my medkit, some herbs. This is going to be... It's gonna be a big job." he sounded weary as he ran a hand through his graying hair, shaking his head.

She nodded, chest tight as she retrieved his supplies, reentering the room to see a Gilver stripped of his dressings. She would have blushed at his nakedness if it weren't so horrific, the majority of his skin red raw and weeping fluids. She couldn't help her choked gasp, tears springing in her eyes as the bagged dropped in the mage's lap. Nothing she could have imagined would be as terrible as this. How was he still alive, walking around?

"It's his demonic blood. It's weak, but it's keeping him alive. He hasn't been taking good care of these. There are some attempts at stitching, but they're poor, and some of these are infected. If we can clean them and stitch them, it'll help greatly. Do you think you can help me?" He gazed at her trembling form in sympathy, not expecting her to nod without hesitation.

"I don't know what help I can be, but I'll try."

"Then put these gloves on. We need to work quickly."

She swallowed down her anxiety, gaining her composure with a final nod, "Just tell me what to do."

* * *

There was nothing to catch the blood, leaving it to flow and cake up on his naked skin in the cold of the chamber. Mundus' words echoed over and over in his head, blocking out all other thoughts as he continued to drag himself towards the shafts of light far before him.

_'You'll never be free of me, Son of Sparda. I will be a part of you until your dying breath.'_

His fingers dug into his palms, reopening the crescent cuts that never closed as they normally would, his grimace not from the physical pain. He blinked away the voices, the saddened look on Dante's face, the witch who resembled his mother.

_'Moving, keep moving.'_

_'Don't worry, I'm gonna do my best to help you, okay?'_

He blinked, and suddenly the dark chamber wasn't so cold and wet. He could hear the slightest sound of panicked weeping, a mans voice giving orders. They were different than normal, not Eva, or that bastard Mundus. He gazed around defensively, fighting but failing to keep his eyes open. The mouth of the cave was before him now, opening up to reveal the craggy beach and raging ocean. The cool, salty air washed over his bare skin, and he stood tall to allow it to wash over his body. He was almost out.

_'Wake up, Gilver. Come on.'_

* * *

* * *

His eyes fluttered open, blinking away the bleariness as he struggled to focus on his surroundings. He tensed, then relaxed as his eyes fell on the girl asleep on his bedside. He wasn't on Mallet Island, or alone in the woods, he was at the old Cottage.

His slight movement roused her from her sleep, shooting up to stare at him in wonder, amber eyes glassy with relieved tears, "You're awake, how do you feel?"

He stared at her for a moment, pale features illuminated by the blue light drifting in the open windows. Had she been crying? How long had she been there?

"I feel...better. Did the old man clean me up?" He rasped, noticing the lack of blood and grime on his body, and especially the distinct lack of clothing.

"We both did, we had to stitch you up and everything. Why didn't you say anything?" She was too tired to be angry with him, couldn't bear to snap at him with the sight she had just witnessed. She'd been too harsh on him the past few days, didn't offer enough help, teased too much. 

The response seemed to disturb him. He offered no real answer, instead staring at the ceiling, "You should not have had to see such a disgusting sight."

She blinked dumbly, "What are you on about? I'm not disgusted, I'm scared. How do you suppose I help you if you're just gonna get yourself killed?" incredulous, she tried to calm herself down. He was so ridiculous, half dead and now he chooses to be insecure about his appearance?

"You aren't disgusting Gilver. Quite the opposite, now promise me if you get hurt again you'll let us take care of it."

His azure gazed turned to her, surprised by her admission and the softness of her features. Quite the opposite? She was mad, surely. She seemed to notice his scrutiny as her nose crinkled slightly, but her response was kind, "I'm not lying to you, now promise."

He seemed so vulnerable, laying there before her, it didn't seem real. Gilver was all hard-edges and cold words, not insecure or soft. She practically melted at the gentle worry in his blue eyes, but kept herself professional.

"Hn." not a yes, but also not a no, his gaze pulling away from hers again. She'd take it, she decided, running a thumb over the back of his bandaged hand before turning to leave. He frowned, confused. She had taken great care to avoid contact with him, flinching whenever they'd even came close. Though still guarded and unsure, the quick caress was tender. He understood the hesitation well, the recognition mildly distressing, though it didn't show outwardly. He hadn't thought about the loss of his senses due to his injuries and dressings, he found himself lamenting them in that moment. 

He wondered about asking her to stay, but couldn't find the words, watching her go in silence. She gripped the door frame as she turned back his way with a soft smile, "I'm going to train, Banon's gonna start giving me items to cleanse. We'll have you better before you know it."

She feigned confidence with a steady tone while shutting the door softly, footsteps fading away as he huffed an irritated sigh.


	8. Seperation

She slid the door shut, bare feet padding silently across the wooden boards beneath them, creaking softly.

"He woke up. Says he feels better, his fever is breaking too," she whispered to Banon who sat at the oak table, nodding off.

His head jolted up as he woke, expression brightening, "That's good, all that work we did should keep him more comfortable, or at least as much as possible. Tomorrow we'll have to fetch more herbs to make more of that salve, keep the pain eased. We can incorporate it into your training as well, certain flora here are quite useful in different spells or acts."

She simply nodded, navigating the dark room aided by the low light coming in from the skylights. She joined him, holding her head in her hands, releasing some of her tension with an exhausted sigh.

"What happened out there?" He prodded gently.

She shook her head, "What I told you before, it's like something came over him, like he couldn't hear me, or that he didn't care."

The old man's gaze hardened, flickering from her hands to her face, "You shouldn't forget that just because he is cooperative here, he is still a demon, quite a strong and unforgiving one. Don't get to comfortable with his behavior."

She stretched her fingers, the scabbing on her hands leaving the skin feeling tight and itchy. Get comfortable with his behavior? What a joke. Yet, she had so easily forgotten how he had been the first day they had met. His disdainful tone, his devilish and violent acts, all forgotten because of a few kind gestures offsetting that behavior. She mentally cringed, she was better than that. Her whole philosophy had become  _'don't get comfortable with anything or anyone',_ yet this injured man had caused it to crumble ever so slightly without her noticing. The shock of the days events had her acting strangely too, and she realized had Gilver been in his right mind minutes ago she would have likely lost her hand.

Banon seemed to notice her discomfort, scrutinizing her with pale, curious eyes.

"So about training, you said you had something ready for me?" she spoke up, desperate to change the subject.

He sighed, pushing himself up from the table with a stretch, "Yes, I prepared a rune for you. We can use it to gauge how ready you are to move onto the next step, follow me."

She shifted anxiously as he lifted the large blue disc from a crate, handling it gently as he led her to the back of the home. Dread settled into the pit of her stomach as the glass door slid open, glowing orange with the light from the lanterns that always seemed to be lit. What if she was being to hasty? He may not be there to see it, but the thought failing kept her from crossing the threshold. Banon seemed to sense this, flashing her a reassuring smile.

"Always so anxious, relax young one. You'll have the hang of this in no time."

The warmth in his lie was comforting, if only a little, as if he truly believed she could master this without much effort. She knew it wouldn't be so easy, but arguing would just be a waste of breath. Focusing on the pleasant feeling of the cool stone under her feet, she settled onto the ground where the decorative disc lay. Without prompting her hands hovered over the rune, vibrating with the unpleasant hum of energy radiating from it. Banon watched her closely as her brows furrowed slightly, eyes closed in concentration.

"Hey Banon?" she paused, waiting for his acknowledging grunt "...how can you infuse this if you said your magic was artificial?" she asked quietly as her fingers slid across the cool ceramic surface.

"Clever," he chuckled with a shake of his head "...I suppose I should have told you, but I was worried you may not trust me."

"Why can't I sense it, like I can with Gilver?"

A graying brow rose, "You're not upset with me?"

"I don't care about something like that." She mumbled, it's not like he owed her that truth.

He cleared his throat, "Well you're not going to sense most demons unless they  _want_  to be sensed, and others such as myself can mask it completely, especially with the aid of magic. It's something you can get better at detecting, if you wish. Gilver's is not his own, but that of the Demon who has cursed him, who likely wanted to be known, though Gilver would have no problem flaunting his own once it's reawakened."

"You speak as if you know him." The words held no challenge, merely curiosity. She pulled her hands into her lap and stared expectantly at him, the sudden eye contact unexpected.

"I know of him, I told you he has quite the reputation as a proud demon. Even met his mother once." He trailed off, fidgeting with his facial hair in thought.

"His mother? What's she like?" She never once thought about Gilver's family, she realized. Why hadn't he gone to them for help, did he have any left, was their relationship strained?

The old man smiled, eyes melancholic as he reminicsed, "She was a pretty young witch, like yourself. She was being trained under someone else, but visited here on a field trip of sorts many years ago. Very talented girl. I'm afraid any other information is not mine to give, however."

She nodded as she spoke, eyes doe-like as he explained. She was a witch too? 

"'Was', meaning she has passed?"

"Yes, a long time ago, unfortunately," he cleared his throat, taking on a more light-hearted tone "...but if I divulge anymore, your friend may have my head. I suggest we move on with the task at hand."

She desperately wanted to ask more, what about his father, did he have siblings? She wondered if he was ever close with them. It was so strange to imagine him young and cheerful, possibly playing with toys or other children. Then again, she had no real knowledge of the upbringing of demons, maybe he was this cold and vicious from the start.

He stopped mid explanation, noticing her unfocused gaze.

"If it isn't obvious already, he doesn't enjoy prying, and his life story will not aid you in any way. I suggest you don't dwell on it."

His subtle reprimand startled her, eyes clearing as she shifted upright and at-attention with an apology.

Pleased, he continued, "Now then, can you distinguish which of the energies is mine, and which belongs to the previous demon?"

* * *

* * *

His fitful sleep left him feeling tired, unable to rest despite the lessened pain and various teas Banon had offered. He detested being so frail and vulnerable, the myriad of wounds not those from a fair battle but a constant reminder that he  _lost_. It was the last thing he wanted people to see, and to be bested by a weak little demon, by something as simple and unfathomable as  _infection._ There was no such thing with demons, half or not.

With all the pitiful ways a human could die, it was a wonder the world was overpopulated with them, he thought.

The fever had broken, memories of the night before somewhat hazy, but he clearly remembered the pathetic exchange that had occurred. He also remembered the foreign warmth, different in quality than the fever, that had lingered far after it had ended. He couldn't tell what was coming over him, if she was spelling him or if the fever had left him delirious, but he had enjoyedit.

He wouldn't allow it to continue, whatever was happening. He had no business being in the company of a weak human, there was nothing enjoyable about such a thing. He'd be thankful once their task was completed, when he could finally be rid of her infuriating presence and get back to feeling like himself.

* * *

* * *

She stifled her yawn with the back of her hand, wary of the dirt covering her injured palm, in her other hand a bundle of herbs with strange names she didn't recognize.

"Shouldn't you be practicing, instead of picking flowers?" a voice sounded coolly behind her, making her jump with a startled yelp.

" _Picking flowers?_ These are the herbs that are keeping your infection at bay. How'd you even get past Banon?"

"Nothing that old fool could do would keep me confined to that room any longer" he crossed his arms over his chest, bringing her attention to his fresh attire.

Still, he dressed somewhat formal in black slacks, combined with a white dress shirt and deep blue vest. Did he even know what casual was? Though she had to admit, it suited him quite nicely. She hadn't even been aware she was staring until he snapped.

"Is there a problem?" he questioned. He was used to her daydreaming, but her amber eyes never zoned out on him, his skin prickling under her gaze.

She shook her head quickly, turning away to hide the embarrassed flush across her cheeks. She mentally reminded herself that he was a stranger, thinking of his behavior yesterday, and Banon's words. No longer flustered, she replied in an icy manner, "Wouldn't a t-shirt be more comfortable? It's not like there's anyone out here to impress."

"I prefer to not dress like a slob, some petty injuries wont change that."

She cocked her head incredulously,  _'what a snob.'_

Instead of fighting him on the matter, she stuck her hands under the falling water from the mill, washing away the dirt and cleaning the bundles of mint and plants in her basket to save Banon some time later when preparing the poultice for Gilver. While he was doing that she could return to her practice away from him, put some well needed distance between the two of them. His mood was particularly worse than usual, and she craved her time alone, not used to being around people so much. It left her feeling unfocused, uneasy.

In her thoughts she didn't notice him move until he was behind her, hand ghosting her own as he glared down at the scabbed mess of her skin. She flinched, pulling her hands back to her chest in confusion, his expression clouded and unreadable. She cursed herself, what was it about him? Had anyone else gotten this close to her should would have lashed out, but she found herself curious rather than angry. Before she could stutter out a question about his close proximity, the hair at the back of her neck stood on end.

Gilver seemed to notice the change in her demeanor, following her gaze into the woods while subtly stepping in front of her. Whatever she was sensing, he couldn't pick up on it, his teeth clenching in frustration.

In the bright shafts of light that broke through the shadowy forest, a red silhouette approached calmly, not at all hindered by the clear blue of the barrier he passed, nor surprised by their presence.

The girl bristled as he approached, snapping from behind Gilver's oddly stiff form, "Who the hell are you?"

The red clad figure swaggered forward, arms outstretched in a friendly manner, white hair glowing under the intense sunlight, bemused by her aggression. He appeared human enough, though no human had hair like that, nor did they walk around with a sword like his strapped to their back. He stopped just in front of them, blue eyes seemingly melancholic as they set on her companion.

"What gives, Verge? Not even a hello for your little brother?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the sweet comments and 50 kudos, really motivates me to write and makes my day. <3


	9. Not Tomorrow

_'Verge? Brother?'_ her eyes darted between the two men as they stood off, Gilver's displeasure palpable in the air despite his seemingly passive stance. She knew better, though. In just the short amount of time she had been in his presence, she knew the calmer he seemed, the more disastrous the outcome could be, gravely injured or not.

"What are you doing here, Dante?" He bit out slowly, the name sounding raspy, bitter.

"Hey, you're all I'm hearing about lately, I had to stop by. Got Lille's shop calling me non-stop and jobs coming out of the Valley, all of it leading back to you," he jabbed the air before Gilver's chest "...Doesn't help you're using that alias from when we were kids, really, if you're trying to hide, you're doing a piss-poor job of it." Dante had started off annoyed but finished off with a chuckle, hands on his hips as he swayed carefree on his feet, eyes drifting to her wary form.

"And you're just as bad, you got a name besides "stolen property?" he eyed her with genuine curiosity, mirth dancing in his azure eyes at her fiery expression.

She narrowed her eyes and lifted her chin, meeting his gaze with uncharacteristic confidence. She didn't take the time to think of her response, instead spouting out the first thing that came to mind.

"Seris".

She felt her companions eyes on her, scoffing in agitation when he addressed her, "That is your name?"

"It's what I want to be called. It's not like you asked, or bothered to give me your own"

Dante whistled at her quick tongue, "You didn't even ask her name? I knew you were never a ladies man, but damn, it's been like over a week, right-"

"I have better things to do with my time than needlessly mingle with weak humans as you do. She is here for no other reason than to assist me. I don't need her name for that." he recovered from his momentary distraction, his lip curled as he took a purposeful step forward, weathered leather shoes whispering through the overgrown grass.

Her face flushed hotly at his vicious words, her gaze dropping to her bare feet in the grass. Thankfully, Gilver seemed more concerned with stabbing the man than gauging her reaction to the scathing comment. It stung, but forced herself to regain her composure. He wasn't wrong, she thought.

"Never thought I'd see you hanging around one willingly," There it was again, the hint of concern and sadness carefully hidden under a playful yet scathing remark. She noted how it only seemed further irritate her bandaged companion, adding to her own confusion.

"I'll ask once more,  _what_ are you doing here?"

"I just had to make sure it was really you, considering everything that happened on Mallet-"

"Well, as  _heartwarming_ as this family reunion is, your presence is not wanted here. Leave."

Gilver unsheathed his sword, taking an offensive stance, while Dante sighed and pulled his own over sized weapon from his back as though it weighed nothing.

"Always gotta make this difficult, huh bro?"

Her heart lodged itself in her throat as they readied to fight, freezing in panic. Shaking herself from her daze, she threw herself in between them, snapping at both of them as they paused, withdrawing their weapons from where they had so nearly touched her.

"Hey, I didn't spend an entire night stitching you back together for you to get yourself torn up again. Save whatever problems you have for later. And you, what, you not into fair fights or something? Look at him! Now isn't the time" she waved her arm for emphasis, having to crane her neck upwards in his close proximity.

He shrugged his broad shoulders, "'m I supposed to just let him slice me up?" his thoughtful look turned into playful grin as he eyed her tiny bristling form, "...you gonna give me a fair fight then?"

She relaxed slightly, blinking dumbly at his waggling eyebrows before cringing.

_'Is he ever serious?'_

She retreated backwards before getting shoved gently forward when she met Gilver, or rather  _Verge's_ chest. Behind them, the cabin door creaked open to reveal a curious but cautious Banon in the arched doorway.

"Are they trying to kill each other already?" He called out, an overgrown brow raised while Dante shook his head, Gilver sending him a fierce glare over his shoulder.

"You know him?" she looked over her shoulder to indicate the red brother, not hiding the slight accusatory tone in her voice, earning an unconcerned nod.

"That would be Gilver, or rather Vergil's twin brother, Dante."

"I guess my reputation as the hottest demon hunter around precedes me." The red twin piped up, leering playfully in her direction, ignoring the fury radiating off his twin.

"A demon that hunts other demons?" she asked, blatantly ignoring his cocky statement.

"Half demon, I'm a humanitarian of sorts. I get it from my old man." he shrugged, and Vergil rolled his eyes.

"Well, Dante, you must have traveled quite far. Why don't you come inside? It looks like this beautiful weather isn't going to hold up much longer." Banon offered with a warm smile, wrinkles crinkling around his pale blue eyes in the same inviting manner they had when she had arrived before. He wasn't wrong, either. The sun was quickly becoming obscured by ominous clouds, cool moist air blowing over her skin and leaving goosebumps in it's wake.

Vergil bristled and Dante glowed, tossing a victorious glance his twins way, "Hell yeah old man, you got any food in there?"

Dante brushed past her with a smile, the heavy scent of leather and gunpowder wafting up her nose as Banon led him inside, leaving her and Vergil to themselves. She had stared hard at the stranger, taking his features in and trying to map them to Vergil's destroyed ones. The eyes were the same color, though Vergil's not nearly as soft and friendly, and despite the injuries she could see similar structure. The white hair really caught her attention, unique and despite herself, she felt captivated by the unusual hue. Vergil would have the same, then?

She shook her head, it wasn't like it really mattered, did it?

Vergil cleared his throat loudly, eyes like flint when she met them, slightly flustered. This time, he seemed to be staring at her as she had lost herself in thought.

"What's your problem with him? He seems nice, if not a little strange."

"Dante is a weak, immature nuisance. His presence is an annoyance that I do not wish to deal with currently, or ever."

"So he's annoying," she confirmed, "...but not a bad guy as far as I can tell. He seems to care a lot about you."

"And why should that matter to me?" he answered coldly.

She frowned, deflating and shaking her head as she turned to follow the jovial voices of Dante and Banon from inside the cottage, seeking refuge from the tension radiating from her demonic companion.

"People tend to appreciate such things, as rare as they are," she didn't look his way, her voice carrying the slightest hint of bitterness as she climbed the steps.

He watched her disappear through the door with a quiet scoff, straightening up before following slowly behind. He pondered her mood change briefly, internally rolling his eyes at yet another one of her inane statements. She seemed full of them, actions and phrases that were unnecessary and incomprehensible, timid and kind, then cold and confident. A frustrating little human indeed.  

Inside, Banon had taken the basket of herbs Seris had collected and began washing them in the sink while Dante grumbled about the bitter smell of burning sage. Vergil ignored his whining twin, standing over to Banon who didn't bother to meet his gaze as he continued to wipe away dirt from the unknown plants.

"You didn't seen very surprised to see my twin, old man. I also find it very odd that he was able to pass through your barrier when various other demons have not been able to." Vergil accused calmly, staring down at the small, elderly man with barely-concealed vexation.

"I had no idea he would arrive. I am a sorcerer, not an oracle," he chuckled, not bothered by Vergil's attempt at intimidation "...and as for the barrier, your blood is not that much different being twins. Call it a loophole, if you will, I am only so talented."

"Do not test me, you old fool. I have no patience for such things."

Banon waved him away, knowing full well that no matter how upset Vergil may be, he couldn't help but rely on him, his words mere empty threats.

In the next room, Seris listened intently to them bicker as she imagined siblings would, Banon's calm voice chiming in occasionally to break them up. She had hoped to escape the tension and create some distance between herself and the many problems that had arisen during the day but it was impossible task with how loud they were, likely able to be heard from all rooms within the cottage.

_'I should probably go practice in the greenhouse, Banon clearly has it handled'_

In the kitchen, Vergil continued to make hateful remarks about Dante's fixation with humans, reminding her about a little piece of information she had just learned.

 _'Half demons...'_ it had never been outright said, but it made so much sense. There had been many subtle references, yet it had never occurred to her that he was anything other than a full demon. She wondered if that was where Vergil's hatred for weakness had come from, maybe he detested his mixed heritage, or maybe it was something else entirely. Which of his parents was the human, then?

He surely wouldn't open up to her about something to personal, he had made that very clear when he couldn't even give her his name. Maybe Dante would be more forthcoming if her curiosity got the better of her. He seemed to be the type who liked to hear himself talk, she decided with a quirk of her lips.

She turned to leave, hip bumping painfully into the edge of a cluttered table. She cursed softly, moving away with a glance at the offending object. Tall as it was, it couldn't be a table. She began shifting the mess around to reveal the shape of a piano. Her brows raised with slight amusement, Banon had to qualify as a hoarder to some degree. She pressed firmly through the cloth and a muted note rung out, louder than she had anticipated.

"Do you play?" Banon's voice broke the silence of the room, causing her to jump and pull her hand away from the cloth she had been running her fingers over as though she had been scolded. The twins had also glanced her way curiously, causing her to flush in embarrassment at the scrutiny.

"N-not much, just a little. I was just checking it out, I had no idea it was there," she replied sheepishly, hands clasped together.

The elderly mage smiled, "Feel free to play it in your spare time, it's been years since anyone has touched the thing. This place could use some music."

She didn't respond, simply nodded in acknowledgment as he turned back to the brothers.

"Can I trust you two not to kill each other for a few minutes? I'm still missing a few herbs for the poultice." Behind him, Seris apologized for her negligence but he waved her off with a wink only she saw.

"If he could ever cease his childish whining, I wouldn't have such a strong will to shut him up permanently." Vergil answered with the slightest lift to his voice.

The twins grew quiet as the old man nodded and took his leave, staring anywhere but each other as the girl could be heard fumbling with junk in the other room. A cloth could be heard being thrown around, presumably the cover on piano she had been toying with, followed by a fit of coughing most likely caused by the thick layers of dust that caked the corners of the cottage.

"So, are you going to tell me what happened to you or you gonna leave me here in suspense?" Dante broke the silence and flopped onto a rickety old chair, the furniture creaking under the sudden weight. His arms draped leisurely over the back and muddy boots were kicked up onto the table, uncaring of the flecks of dirt that now littered the surface.

In the other room, the random cacophony of shuffling and random piano keys had developed into a pretty yet melancholic tune that paired will with the patter of rain on the skylights, seemingly catching the attention of his grim brother, pale features accentuated by the gray light filtering in from above.

Vergil's irritation had faded slightly, though not relaxed he seemed to tolerate his presence for the moment, even if he would come nowhere near him.  
He was thoughtful for a moment, but decided to grant his brother a simple summary of recent events, if only to shut him up and possibly even get him on his way. He and Seris couldn't afford distractions, and his loud mouthed twin was nothing but.

He leaned further into the wall with a quiet sigh, "In the aftermath of your battle with Mundus and in the destruction of Mallet, I managed to escape, his control over me broken, though I found he had placed some kind of curse upon me, leaving the wounds you and he inflicted to fester rather than heal."

Dante nodded solemnly, almost apologetically. He hadn't actually expected his twin to be so forthcoming. He said nothing, listening intently as his twin continued to speak, his eyes focused on the other room, eyes aglow with the slightest hint of interest.

"I went to find Lille after I had recovered a bit,  to see if she could assist me in ridding myself of said curse, only to find the old woman had passed. I was directed here, though I traveled first through Voidvos where I conveniently found the girl at an auction house, untrained but possibly what I was looking for."

"Is she?"

"She is learning how to be here. Banon says shes making good progress, but it will take some time."

He pointedly neglected to mention the time limit he had to be cleansed, Dante didn't need to know. He didn't need to see him worry, didn't need his pity. Hopefully his twin would take his leave before one of the others inevitably blurted out the news in their irritating good nature.

"When I felt that aura, I was worried that I wouldn't find you here, at least not as you are." ' _But corrupted, like the last time I saw you.'_ He hadn't needed to say the words, their meaning written all over his face, in the creases between his brows and the softness of his eyes.

Seris' somber melody filtered through the room with increased intensity, echoing softly off the high ceilings as Vergil watched from where he leaned against the threshold, arms crossed. Dante leaned forward, elbows on his knees as he observed his ever quiet twin. Vergil offered no response, face passive as ever, but his eyes had visibly dimmed, for what reason he couldn't discern.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry to keep you waiting and that it's kind of short and uneventful, I wasn't expecting to still be getting feedback <3 I tend to get quite self conscious about my works and often second guess what I should do with it so I sometimes lose the inspiration to write. I would like to finish this though. I also decided to give Seris her name, since she was quickly becoming her own character, so it's not much of an ambiguous reader insert anymore, I hope that isn't an issue. Thanks for all the kind words, I'll try to keep up more with this. 
> 
> Also, if you're wondering what song is being played on the piano, it's Not Tomorrow from Silent Hill. There's a piano version by Myuu on youtube that I love and was listening to while writing this, you should check it out if you want. c:


	10. Null Moon

The rain had lasted long into the night, still pattering loudly against the glass panes of the giant terrarium-like structure. Seris sighed softly, willing herself to relax as she rubbed her hands together for warmth above the burning incense and candles, bottom frozen on the cold stones that made up the floor. Vergil had been acting strange all day, she didn't know how to feel about Dante, and it all had her too flustered to truly focus on her current tasks. Regardless, she had made  _some_ progress she'd have to share with Banon soon, though it didn't feel so rewarding. She'd been able to cleanse the rune partially, but when left alone while she silently celebrated, the energy re accumulated back to it's original strength. Progress, yes, but she still felt so far away from their goal. She worried her lip, the skin breaking under her constant abuse as she placed her hands on the cold ceramic, desperately attempting to displace the energy for an eighth time that night.

* * *

In the midst of cleaning up the small mess left in the wake of her training, she heard a muffled grunt of frustration coming from the room she and Vergil had been sharing. She froze, straining to hear through the closed door as something dropped onto the wooden floor, followed by an annoyed growl.

She was supposed to be ignoring him, but against her better judgement, her knuckles softly rapped against the wood, softly calling out to him, "You alright?"

Inside, he tensed at the sound of her voice, barely audible. He had heard her enter the house but wasn't aware of her standing right outside his room. His scowl deepened at his lack of awareness, fist tightening around the roll of bandages until they collapsed in his palm.

"I am fine. Leave me."

She backed away at his harsh dismissal, but didn't leave. She heard the distinct creak of the medicine kit's hinges which painted a very obvious picture to her. He was attempting to bandage himself alone. She chewed her lip, voice caught in her throat as she knew her inquiry would be met with more irritation.

"Do you need a hand? I could get Banon-"

"No. Leave."

A beat of silence passed before he huffed a sigh of frustration. Suddenly feeling quite bold, she slowly pushed the door open, giving him fair warning to shoo her off again if he really wanted to. He remained silent, but his scowl turned slightly confused as she averted her gaze, not in disgust but in embarrassment at his state of undress, looking far less ragged than he had when she'd first seen his torso.

"What did we tell you about being stubborn?" She feigned confidence with a playful jab, keeping her eyes on the medkit instead of him.

He crossed his arms as she approached, bring her attention to them. They were thin, with traces of muscle beneath that she assumed at one point were much more pronounced. She hadn't noticed how malnourished he appeared until now, though he seemed to be recovering steadily. She wondered if it was partially due to the hex that he hadn't bounced back from whatever ordeal left him the way he was.

"I don't require help with something so simple, especially from little girls."

"Really, 'cause it seems like you're having an awful lot of trouble in here." she replied sharply at his comment, though her eyes were warm with mirth as she met his.

He growled again, but she interrupted him before he could respond.

"Please, just sit so we can get this over with," she pleaded, not wanting to argue. All his twisting and turning to try and wrap his torso would just reopen the wounds and bust the stitches, and they couldn't afford for him to get any worse.

His jaw clenched, but he showed no further defiance aside from his frown as he sat on the bed in an almost elegant manner. She shook her head at how even the simplest of movements were so gracefully executed.

She muttered a soft apology for her intrusion that had his eyes flicking towards her for a moment before settling in the opposite direction. She stood beside him, barely taller than him even with him sitting on while she adjusted the too-tight gauze he had begun wrapping himself in.

She took a seat next to the bed armed with a soaked piece of cotton, eventually scooting close to better cleanse his damaged skin with yet another mumbled apology at her proximity. She held her hand against an undamaged patch of skin on his cheek, encouraging him to turn his head to allow for easier access to the delicate areas.

Her gaze was indescribably soft, brows furrowed slightly as she switched to a clean applicator and kept working. He fought the urge to squirm, to slap her prodding hands away, not because she was causing him pain, pain was nothing to him.

Rather, it was the gentleness of her touch that had him distraught, confused and out of control of the situation and how it was effecting him, stirring up feelings he didn't understand, and yet again he cursed his state. Her touches were careful, feather light as she worried over every abscess and weeping burn without a hint of disgust. Despite how she'd been avoiding him up until this point, tense at any of them laying a hand on her even in the most innocent of ways, there was none of that when he had held his hand the night before, or when she tended to him now. She'd even shied away from bumping shoulders with his brother, not a bandaged devil or an old man, but someone who never failed to catch the attention of a woman.

She'd seemed angry with him, but was still so willing to help. It was maddening, trying to keep a read on her and what she was thinking, feeling, when humans were usually so easy to read. Her fingertips pressed with a little more pressure when he didn't respond to her prompting to turn his head so she could reach his other temple. She hovered over him now, carefully dabbing away the dried blood while he cursed internally, a foreign tightness in his chest that left him angry and confused.

He shook her hands off when the last of the bandages had been fastened at the back of his head, avoiding her gaze as she backed away from him, hands held close to her chest. He stood swiftly from the bed, ignoring the pain of his wounds as he headed for the door. He needed some space, being stuck in this stupid cabin was getting to him, especially being under the same roof as his brother and this little human. Behind him, said human busied herself with fixing the bedding on the chair, feeling awkward. Maybe she had done too much-

"If I come back and find you sleeping in my chair, you'll sorely regret it"

She startled at his tone, glancing his way with a blanket in hand. She couldn't read his expression, but the seriousness in his tone sent a shiver down her spine despite the hint of humor underlying it. He seemed pleased with her reaction, letting the door shut behind him with a quirk of his lips. She stared after him in confusion and shock. What exactly had he meant by that?

She shut her mouth in determination, pulling the bedding off the chair and dropping down onto it. He'd won once before, but it wasn't happening again, not after his stunt with the demon. She curled up until comfortable, silently daring Vergil to do anything about it.

* * *

Vergil woke to the sound of his brothers roaring laughter, and quiet feminine giggles he wasn't quite familiar with. His eyes drifted to the chair, the mass of blankets Seris had slept with hung messily over the furniture. He should have known better than to think his threat would work against her, stubborn, and oftentimes clueless as she was. He'd debated waking her to throw her onto the bed when he'd re-entered the room, but she'd been sleeping so deeply he decided he would let it slide - for now. He would have to think of a suitable way to make due on his threat, then maybe she would take him more seriously. He smirked to himself, thinking of the various possibilities.

He exited the bedroom after taking a few moments to get dressed for the day, coming into the common area to see Seris and Dante getting along surprisingly well considering her aversion to others.  His pleasant, mischievous mood faded, replaced by a growing irritation. He watched quietly as they chatted, obvious that his twins charismatic personality had her warming up to him.

"...and then Lady swung it like a bat, and it went like" Dante motioned upward dramatically with his arms, rewarded with a chiming laugh from the girl, who held her hand over her face to hide her expression.

Vergil frowned, not bothering to hide his irritation when their eyes turned to him. Dante seemed unbothered while Seris quieted, expression concerned.

"Hey bro, how'd you sleep?" 

"It's a wonder anyone could rest with your constant buffoonery"

His eyes flickered to the girl, all her lightheartedness having gone with his entrance. She could sense his irritation, and opened her mouth to apologize, for what she couldn't discern. It felt like the right thing to do, however he cut her off before she could utter a syllable.

"I trust you've made good progress today if you're so freely rambling on about such nonsense"

She wilted, gaze lowered at his sharp tone. His mood seemed especially sour, and she hadn't wanted to be reminded of her snag in progress. Things had been going so well until last night, she knew it'd been too easy, but she didn't know where to start and her mentor was nowhere to be found.

"Relax, Verge, we were just chatting a little, cut 'er some slack"

She gave a quick, uneasy smile at his defense, but knew it was misplaced. There was no time for chatting, whether he was aware or not. Vergil caught this too, glowering at his twins ignorance. Though Dante seemed to have caught something the others hadn't, and continued to smirk through Vergil's scathing remarks.

"Why are you still here? Have you nothing better to do than annoy me?"

"Aw c'mon, are you afraid of a little competition or something?"

Seris blinked in confusion at the red clad male, then at Vergil who's eyes had narrowed into flinty slits.

"Imbecile, you're merely an unneeded distraction."

 _Competition?_ Was his sibling really implying that he was jealous? He huffed quietly, pushing past them to enter the kitchen.

"Banon made you some tea, it's still warm, if you want some." She called after him, her voice trailing off as he didn't stop to listen.

Dante chuckled as his brothers hasty retreat, trying hard to imagine the pinkness of his cheeks underneath all that gauze. His grin faded when Seris had made it to the back door during his brief distraction with his flustered twin. 

"Hey, c'mon, you were out there all night. You can take some time for yourself, Verge is just a hard ass"

She clung to the wall, turning around with a thin smile, "No, he has a point. It's...urgent. I should get back to it."

He raised a white brow at her barely concealed troubled tone. Her smile fell as a kind of understanding registered on his face. She had thought he was somewhat dim, what with his confident and humorous nature, but apparently he was the opposite. She felt pinned by his piercing blue gaze, suddenly so like his twins in it's seriousness.

"What's so urgent about it?" He questioned, taking a step towards her which only further panicked her.

She shook her head, "I-I don't think it's my place to tell you"

Though Vergil hadn't specified how he felt about telling him, she could only imagine he didn't know for a reason. 

Those snowy brows knitted together as she tried to shrink into the shadows of the hall and retreat, but he was having none of it, "I think I should know, and something tells me my brother isn't going to give up the information"

She faltered at his serious tone, shaking her head in defeat as she beckoned for him to come closer, not wanting to be within ear-shot of Vergil. He would likely be furious with her, but his brother seemed to care, and deserved to know the truth about his well being. She hoped she wasn't making a mistake. Dante followed her out the back door, heart thudding against his rib cage wildly.

"You have to promise not to make a fuss, it would be best if he didn't know that you know, you know" she rambled, and despite his anxiety he managed a small smile at her nervous chatter and shuffling. Vergil picked a hell of a human to tag along with.

"Scouts honor" he gave a little salute, his humor peeking through, though it wouldn't last for long.

"Well," she started as they exited into the soft morning light, surrounded by the fog and cool air. She wrapped her arms around herself, not just for warmth her thin long-sleeve shirt didn't provide.

"...I-I don't believe we have a lot of time left." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to make this a slow burn but I feel like I'm going too fast lol but I hope youre all still enjoying it. I have an idea of how this is going to end, I'm just working out exactly how it's going to get there. Works kinda in the way but I'll keep updating, thanks for all the comments and kudos c:

**Author's Note:**

> Not much of a writer but this idea has been in my head for awhile, I wanted to get it written down. Trying to nail Vergil/Gilver's character is a challenge for me though I'm trying my best to not make him too OOC. I also have no beta and posted this at 6 am so don't mind any typos I missed haha.
> 
> Anyways, thanks for reading <3 pls be gentle


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